As terrifying as many of my dreams are, sometimes I’ll have one that reeks of absurdity. And me being me, I wake up from it and eventually stop taking dreams so seriously and find the comedy in them.
Last night I was incredibly bothered by a new law in California. Here is my story:
I was very rushed walking down the street (I think it was downtown?) talking on the phone. I had so much to do. I was supposed to meet my friend Dene so we could go looking for movie stills of some movie he had been in (first and only acting job he ever had – and he’s a 40-something interior designer). I also had to prepare some sort of Holiday dinner (I only had a piece of roast, a banana and some flour, which I could turn into crepes. Oh, and the kids found some huge grapes). The street was full of people, lots of them just sitting – on benches, on steps… Suddenly, I ran smack into a cop. I looked up from my phone call and the stern look on this officer’s face prompted me to quickly lower the phone to my side.
Looking down he said to me, “Ma’am, you do know there is a new law in California, don’t you?” “Yeah…” I tentatively answered. “Not only are you not allowed to drive and talk on the phone, but the new law states you can’t walk and talk either.” “Please don’t arrest me, officer, I just forgot, with the holidays and all… I’m sorry” I said. He continued, “However, the rule is that if I escort you to an area where you can safely sit down and continue your conversation, you can avoid a ticket or arrest.”
(Advisory - NO THIS IS NOT A PORN DREAM)
Off we went, down the block until we came to some steps. He said I could sit there because it was an approved area, so I sat down and resumed my conversation.
I was really pissed off because I thought that the whole “no walking and talking” law really made cell phones useless anymore, and as I looked around there were so many people now… sitting. And because the law stated you must sit and talk in a safe area, nobody could sit on a curb, or near the street so seats and steps had become the new parking spaces.
Thus, downtown had become a gigantic game of Musical Chairs. As soon as a phone rang, people would scurry for a seat, as if the music had suddenly stopped. As soon as a ringing sound would hit the airwaves, whether it was your phone or not, you had to be ready. Some people wouldn't even get up at all, lest they lose their seat...
Furthermore, there was also a law against becoming involved in intense conversation with a passenger while driving in a car. If the conversation was light and casual it was ok, but nothing that would require any distracting thoughts, or any engaging thoughts at all. How did the police knew how intense the conversation was, you ask? By the look on people's faces or their gestures, thus making it impossible for those of us of Italian descent to communicate with anyone at all while in a car.
Discussions of this law extending to "not engaging in deep conversation while walking" was also in the works. Something our government was considering passing in 2009.
I don't make this up. My brain does. The same way I wake up most mornings with a song in my head, making it the official "Song Of The Day". Today it was "Save A Prayer" by Duran Duran. I'll try to post these as the DJ living in my head lets me know what they are, given that it's not his day off or is called to work a wedding.
True story, I don't make this up, my brain goes on its own free will.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
She's a lady - another pet story
My daughter's new dog, Tiki, finally went into heat. She is the smallest dog that's ever walked this earth and (of course) the cutest (at probably 2 lbs. wet and with ankle weights).
I noticed this change last night, after she used her training pad in the house. Couldn't wait to tell my daughter (who was at her dad's), so I called her immediately. The first thing she said was something about it not being possible that her dog get her period before her, and then she begged me to not "make" her dog have babies, but to let the dog choose (huh?).
Anyway, she said this because her last dog, Carmela, was cruelly forced into (no pun) mating with this hideous creature: a teacup-size poodle stud, all-white, 2.5 lbs., with a member he could proudly base a rap career on, walking toward us whilst moving his pelvic area back and forth. He was terrifying, much more so than a Chuckie doll waiting to give you an OB exam.
As I held helpless Carmie, and offered up her virginity to Satan's Lapdog, the matter-of-factly pimp of a woman that was the other dog's owner reached for her dog's penis and proceeded to insert it in said virgin's hole.
"Is this really necessary?" I thought to myself, as Carmie turned her head towards me with imploring eyes. "Why? What's with the inserting gross things inside me?", she seemed to say. To make matters worse, the Madam told us (my step-daughter Kelly was with me, just because I self-destroy by bringing witnesses into my ever-evolving world of crazy) to hold Carm butt-to-the-sky to make sure the "stuff" went in.
Some of it did, some of it did not. Some went on Kelly, as she had held Carmie with comforting love. She then quickly passed her to me, butt down. Grossed-out and alert, I reached for her and turned her butt up again. Carmie whimpered, so butt down. As I brought her closer to me, butt back up. Yes I felt bad for treating her like a snow globe, but I knew if any of Satan's Lapdog's jizz went anywhere on me I would be cursed with feeling it indefinitely on whatever spot it landed. Because if a wet kiss on the cheek doesn't go away so easily...
Thankfully, my daughter (Carmela's owner) was too young to personally witness this, although she remembers the incident because afterwords Carmela developed an infection that almost took her life, and that was a big deal at our house. She was literally minutes away from a ruptured uterus that would have been the end of her. But she survived.
Carmie's attitude toward male dogs did change after this incident, especially since she had to have all of her reproductive organs removed. Regardless, she was a good dog.
And a true bitch.
In memory of Carmela, whom I miss dearly, and haven't given up on.
I noticed this change last night, after she used her training pad in the house. Couldn't wait to tell my daughter (who was at her dad's), so I called her immediately. The first thing she said was something about it not being possible that her dog get her period before her, and then she begged me to not "make" her dog have babies, but to let the dog choose (huh?).
Anyway, she said this because her last dog, Carmela, was cruelly forced into (no pun) mating with this hideous creature: a teacup-size poodle stud, all-white, 2.5 lbs., with a member he could proudly base a rap career on, walking toward us whilst moving his pelvic area back and forth. He was terrifying, much more so than a Chuckie doll waiting to give you an OB exam.
As I held helpless Carmie, and offered up her virginity to Satan's Lapdog, the matter-of-factly pimp of a woman that was the other dog's owner reached for her dog's penis and proceeded to insert it in said virgin's hole.
"Is this really necessary?" I thought to myself, as Carmie turned her head towards me with imploring eyes. "Why? What's with the inserting gross things inside me?", she seemed to say. To make matters worse, the Madam told us (my step-daughter Kelly was with me, just because I self-destroy by bringing witnesses into my ever-evolving world of crazy) to hold Carm butt-to-the-sky to make sure the "stuff" went in.
Some of it did, some of it did not. Some went on Kelly, as she had held Carmie with comforting love. She then quickly passed her to me, butt down. Grossed-out and alert, I reached for her and turned her butt up again. Carmie whimpered, so butt down. As I brought her closer to me, butt back up. Yes I felt bad for treating her like a snow globe, but I knew if any of Satan's Lapdog's jizz went anywhere on me I would be cursed with feeling it indefinitely on whatever spot it landed. Because if a wet kiss on the cheek doesn't go away so easily...
Thankfully, my daughter (Carmela's owner) was too young to personally witness this, although she remembers the incident because afterwords Carmela developed an infection that almost took her life, and that was a big deal at our house. She was literally minutes away from a ruptured uterus that would have been the end of her. But she survived.
Carmie's attitude toward male dogs did change after this incident, especially since she had to have all of her reproductive organs removed. Regardless, she was a good dog.
And a true bitch.
In memory of Carmela, whom I miss dearly, and haven't given up on.
A summary
So I blink and next thing I know 9 days have passed since I last wrote...
Day 1 - I was sad
Day 2 - I wasn't inspired
Day 3 - I freaked out
Day 4 - the kids went to their dad's, I was sad
Day 5 - same as day 4
Day 6 - kids came back, I was busy being happy
Day 7 - Similar to Day 6
Day 8 - Kids left again, too sad to write
Day 9 - Kids were gone. Again, too sad
Today - someone pointed out that I was a lazy ass, had to prove them wrong.
Day 1 - I was sad
Day 2 - I wasn't inspired
Day 3 - I freaked out
Day 4 - the kids went to their dad's, I was sad
Day 5 - same as day 4
Day 6 - kids came back, I was busy being happy
Day 7 - Similar to Day 6
Day 8 - Kids left again, too sad to write
Day 9 - Kids were gone. Again, too sad
Today - someone pointed out that I was a lazy ass, had to prove them wrong.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Woo-hoo
I'm happy. The kids are back at home and I couldn't be any happier.
I guess I don't realize it, but when they are with me, I listen to every word they say, I engage in what they do and basically never ignore them (besides, they wouldn't let me). So when they aren't around the silence is deafening, and my brain is in constant search for them.
I know I'm giving them all I got. In retrospect, I gave my marriage all I had, and although at times it saddens me to think about it, today I found a video I made for my husband that summarized so much of what I used to feel. And that made me happy. Right there in front of me, was proof of what I felt, a detailed description of what the main problem has been for many years... and I felt happy.
I felt happy to know that after all this time, I haven't wavered from who I am. I was true to him and myself, and I continue to do so. I told him years ago what the consequences would be if things continued the way they were, and it happened... nothing more, nothing less. I now claim to only want to be around my children, and that's what I do. I say I'm not interested in dating, and I don't go out. In this exact moment, I'm happily proud of that, because after crying for most of the day, I feel strong. Kinda kick-ass. Like the Lara Croft of emotionally needy and co-dependent women. But Lara Croft nevertheless.
I guess I don't realize it, but when they are with me, I listen to every word they say, I engage in what they do and basically never ignore them (besides, they wouldn't let me). So when they aren't around the silence is deafening, and my brain is in constant search for them.
I know I'm giving them all I got. In retrospect, I gave my marriage all I had, and although at times it saddens me to think about it, today I found a video I made for my husband that summarized so much of what I used to feel. And that made me happy. Right there in front of me, was proof of what I felt, a detailed description of what the main problem has been for many years... and I felt happy.
I felt happy to know that after all this time, I haven't wavered from who I am. I was true to him and myself, and I continue to do so. I told him years ago what the consequences would be if things continued the way they were, and it happened... nothing more, nothing less. I now claim to only want to be around my children, and that's what I do. I say I'm not interested in dating, and I don't go out. In this exact moment, I'm happily proud of that, because after crying for most of the day, I feel strong. Kinda kick-ass. Like the Lara Croft of emotionally needy and co-dependent women. But Lara Croft nevertheless.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
I HATE IT
I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.
I hate not having my kids here. Then I thought of cloning them, but me being me I would want to keep all 4 to myself. Plus Gigi when available...
I cannot live without my kids. I love them more everyday, they are my sun, my moon, my morning, my night, my breath, my sustenance, my music and my song. Their eyes sparkle, the perfection of their faces takes my breath away. Their voices drown every other sound in the world. Their touch gives me a warmth that could sustain me for a thousand winter nights.
And yet... here I am, without them. Night takes forever to come, and the dark it brings isn't dark enough. It's cold, I miss their warmth. It's so quietly loud, and their voices I cannot hear. My home looks distorted, an ugly compilation of belongings that are material and don't hold any meaning... Nothing sparkles, everything is dull and lifeless.
I just want tonight to end. And it just doesn't come quick enough.
I hate not having my kids here. Then I thought of cloning them, but me being me I would want to keep all 4 to myself. Plus Gigi when available...
I cannot live without my kids. I love them more everyday, they are my sun, my moon, my morning, my night, my breath, my sustenance, my music and my song. Their eyes sparkle, the perfection of their faces takes my breath away. Their voices drown every other sound in the world. Their touch gives me a warmth that could sustain me for a thousand winter nights.
And yet... here I am, without them. Night takes forever to come, and the dark it brings isn't dark enough. It's cold, I miss their warmth. It's so quietly loud, and their voices I cannot hear. My home looks distorted, an ugly compilation of belongings that are material and don't hold any meaning... Nothing sparkles, everything is dull and lifeless.
I just want tonight to end. And it just doesn't come quick enough.
Loves and Demons
In order to keep my mind off the stresses of everyday life and insane relationships, I paused my reading "Outliers" and passed to John, who is probably almost done with it. I then replaced it with something a bit more sensational (to keep my ADD in check), a book about demonologists. It's about a couple who have been in the business of exorcising demons and such for about 30 years, and they are supposed to be one of the most knowledgeable teams in the world (ok, or at least the USA).
This book is supposed to scare the wits out of you, and I've only read one whole chapter. But here's where I'm going with this...
A few years ago, I had an episode where I had been on the phone with someone supposedly very spiritual. She was trying to convince me of something that to me was morally and ethically unacceptable, never mind the fact that it wasn't incredibly Christian. Nothing major, just her views on the subject seemed to reek of status-influenced, rich people bullshit.
After hanging up, I felt a hideous knot in my stomach and that something was very wrong. It was making me sick, nauseous, and I was crying. I told my husband at the time that something was wrong, I felt sick, but it was something different, something really bad.
He left me in the living room to go put the kids to bed after handing me a bowl just in case. No sooner did he walk away, I felt the knot dissipate and I felt better. After a while, he came back and asked me how I was feeling, but his eyes were open slightly wider than usual. I told him "I feel fine now, thank you." Then he asked me something unusual: "When did start to you feel better?" and I told him that was pretty much as he walked away, towards the kids' room.
Then, for just a few seconds, he was quiet. "You know what?" he said; "I took longer than usual because Bala (our son) wouldn't go to sleep, he was terrified". "Why?" I asked him. "Bala kept talking about a dark figure with no eyes standing at the doorway of his room, and he was absolutely convinced. He couldn't stop talking about it, this very dark figure with no eyes. He then said that it took off down the hallway, towards our room".
Stef was clearly freaked out about this, as was I. "Not with my kid, you don't" I thought to whatever this dark thing may have been...
The next day, and for quite a few weeks, our sweet Bala kept talking about this incident. I told him that it was just his imagination, but he wouldn't buy it. Nowadays, if I ask him about that night he sweetly says "it's ok, it was just my imagination..."
I spoke to a couple of priests, reaching no real conclusion. Just in case, my very dear Father Phil happened to be in L.A. and stopped by our home to bless it with Holy Water, in hopes this sort of thing wouldn't happen again, or just to humor me, no matter...
Going back to this book (which, by the way, is called "The Demonologist, the Extraordinary Career of Ed and Lorraine Warren"), the two subjects are trying to explain to people the difference between ghosts and demons.
Here is something that, well... just read: "Ed displays a picture, taken in a demonically-infested house, of what looks like the ghost of a boy. 'That was no ghost,' Ed says... ...As for the picture, the boy had no eyes. That is a trademark of the demonic..."
G
This book is supposed to scare the wits out of you, and I've only read one whole chapter. But here's where I'm going with this...
A few years ago, I had an episode where I had been on the phone with someone supposedly very spiritual. She was trying to convince me of something that to me was morally and ethically unacceptable, never mind the fact that it wasn't incredibly Christian. Nothing major, just her views on the subject seemed to reek of status-influenced, rich people bullshit.
After hanging up, I felt a hideous knot in my stomach and that something was very wrong. It was making me sick, nauseous, and I was crying. I told my husband at the time that something was wrong, I felt sick, but it was something different, something really bad.
He left me in the living room to go put the kids to bed after handing me a bowl just in case. No sooner did he walk away, I felt the knot dissipate and I felt better. After a while, he came back and asked me how I was feeling, but his eyes were open slightly wider than usual. I told him "I feel fine now, thank you." Then he asked me something unusual: "When did start to you feel better?" and I told him that was pretty much as he walked away, towards the kids' room.
Then, for just a few seconds, he was quiet. "You know what?" he said; "I took longer than usual because Bala (our son) wouldn't go to sleep, he was terrified". "Why?" I asked him. "Bala kept talking about a dark figure with no eyes standing at the doorway of his room, and he was absolutely convinced. He couldn't stop talking about it, this very dark figure with no eyes. He then said that it took off down the hallway, towards our room".
Stef was clearly freaked out about this, as was I. "Not with my kid, you don't" I thought to whatever this dark thing may have been...
The next day, and for quite a few weeks, our sweet Bala kept talking about this incident. I told him that it was just his imagination, but he wouldn't buy it. Nowadays, if I ask him about that night he sweetly says "it's ok, it was just my imagination..."
I spoke to a couple of priests, reaching no real conclusion. Just in case, my very dear Father Phil happened to be in L.A. and stopped by our home to bless it with Holy Water, in hopes this sort of thing wouldn't happen again, or just to humor me, no matter...
Going back to this book (which, by the way, is called "The Demonologist, the Extraordinary Career of Ed and Lorraine Warren"), the two subjects are trying to explain to people the difference between ghosts and demons.
Here is something that, well... just read: "Ed displays a picture, taken in a demonically-infested house, of what looks like the ghost of a boy. 'That was no ghost,' Ed says... ...As for the picture, the boy had no eyes. That is a trademark of the demonic..."
G
Thursday, January 8, 2009
...and then the sky opened up...
...and God told Gigi to give me a hug.
Which is what happened as soon as I came back into the house after my angry/crying walk. Still crying, I saw her come towards the door and silently wrap her arms around my waist.
"I love you, Gabby".
Dear God in the Heavens above, how can I ever thank you enough for those sweet hazel eyes when they look up at me, knowing she's so concerned for my well-being? How on earth could anything ever be any more important to me than this exact moment, right now?
Get your head on straight, Gabriela. Nothing means more to you than the love of your 3 children. Absolutely NOTHING. God only knows...
Which is what happened as soon as I came back into the house after my angry/crying walk. Still crying, I saw her come towards the door and silently wrap her arms around my waist.
"I love you, Gabby".
Dear God in the Heavens above, how can I ever thank you enough for those sweet hazel eyes when they look up at me, knowing she's so concerned for my well-being? How on earth could anything ever be any more important to me than this exact moment, right now?
Get your head on straight, Gabriela. Nothing means more to you than the love of your 3 children. Absolutely NOTHING. God only knows...
Again? Are you KIDDING me????
My husband (or soon to be ex? or dead?) had made me a promise: I would for sure get to see this new condo in Marina Del Rey that he wants to buy before finalizing the purchase.
Because of scheduling conflicts, not enough time to plan and the fact that the bloody thing is in Marina Del Effing Rey, I haven't yet seen it. "No problem," I heard a some days ago, "the financing didn't go through".
Today he told me there was another way to do the financing. I didn't like the way this whole deal was starting to sound, so when he came by to get the kids I told him so, hoping that my new status as his really good friend and mother of his children had finally gained me some sort of a voice in matters of importance. I told him, "I don't think you should get it".
"Too late", he said, "it's in escrow". "Oh? Oh, no! You lost it to someone else!" "No," said he, "I'm getting it, it's too late, it's in escrow".
To say that I felt my cranium slowly cracking from the back, opening up the way for some raging, red fire to shoot out of it is putting it mildly. How did he do this to me again?????
As anyone can plainly see, I am not much involved, consulted or considered in any major decisions when it comes to... anything. I wouldn't mind if there had been wild success attached to previous endeavors, but this hasn't been the case, and against any sort of advice or warning I heeded, things always seemed to move forward -- with me or right over the top of me, trampling my decision making confidence with the force of a herd of elephants. What's worse, my kids will be staying in a place I have no idea about, or where it is. But I'm sure it's a beaut.
The anger and hurt I suddenly felt, raged and took over me. I spewed all kinds of things that I usually keep locked away into the depths of that "frustration room" in my brain, and quickly made him revisit history. Then, I simply wanted to go around and pick up every single valuable piece of anything he's ever acquired (houses included) and shove them all up his arse. And walk away.
As I fight more and more to bring meaning into my life, I think more and more he's going the other way. We live in Sherman Oaks because this is where he decided was a good place/home for us to live in. Now he moved to the beachside. Wouldn't anyone in their right mind want to live closer to his children?
I raged, I cried, I got a fever. I then decided to catch the last +2 minutes left of the Florida/Oklahoma game. Florida won. I thought of my Florida friends all celebrating, with their beers, bowls of chips, loved ones, all jumping up and down, hugging, hi-five-ing... and how cool those moments are. And how simple. And how envious I felt.
As I now sit on my bed, in this room with an amazing view of the valley, that wonderful beach-front condo is total symbol for bullshit. I want simplicity. I would so love to sit in a small, cozy house somewhere, my legs tucked under me, eating chips and smiling broadly, as I watch those I love lose their mind with excitement over a ball game.
Unfortunately, the one I chose to love as a husband for so long, holds exciting moments deep within his own mind, in the shape of decision-making purchases, investments or grand deals.
Most of these hardly ever include me.
They never did.
Because of scheduling conflicts, not enough time to plan and the fact that the bloody thing is in Marina Del Effing Rey, I haven't yet seen it. "No problem," I heard a some days ago, "the financing didn't go through".
Today he told me there was another way to do the financing. I didn't like the way this whole deal was starting to sound, so when he came by to get the kids I told him so, hoping that my new status as his really good friend and mother of his children had finally gained me some sort of a voice in matters of importance. I told him, "I don't think you should get it".
"Too late", he said, "it's in escrow". "Oh? Oh, no! You lost it to someone else!" "No," said he, "I'm getting it, it's too late, it's in escrow".
To say that I felt my cranium slowly cracking from the back, opening up the way for some raging, red fire to shoot out of it is putting it mildly. How did he do this to me again?????
As anyone can plainly see, I am not much involved, consulted or considered in any major decisions when it comes to... anything. I wouldn't mind if there had been wild success attached to previous endeavors, but this hasn't been the case, and against any sort of advice or warning I heeded, things always seemed to move forward -- with me or right over the top of me, trampling my decision making confidence with the force of a herd of elephants. What's worse, my kids will be staying in a place I have no idea about, or where it is. But I'm sure it's a beaut.
The anger and hurt I suddenly felt, raged and took over me. I spewed all kinds of things that I usually keep locked away into the depths of that "frustration room" in my brain, and quickly made him revisit history. Then, I simply wanted to go around and pick up every single valuable piece of anything he's ever acquired (houses included) and shove them all up his arse. And walk away.
As I fight more and more to bring meaning into my life, I think more and more he's going the other way. We live in Sherman Oaks because this is where he decided was a good place/home for us to live in. Now he moved to the beachside. Wouldn't anyone in their right mind want to live closer to his children?
I raged, I cried, I got a fever. I then decided to catch the last +2 minutes left of the Florida/Oklahoma game. Florida won. I thought of my Florida friends all celebrating, with their beers, bowls of chips, loved ones, all jumping up and down, hugging, hi-five-ing... and how cool those moments are. And how simple. And how envious I felt.
As I now sit on my bed, in this room with an amazing view of the valley, that wonderful beach-front condo is total symbol for bullshit. I want simplicity. I would so love to sit in a small, cozy house somewhere, my legs tucked under me, eating chips and smiling broadly, as I watch those I love lose their mind with excitement over a ball game.
Unfortunately, the one I chose to love as a husband for so long, holds exciting moments deep within his own mind, in the shape of decision-making purchases, investments or grand deals.
Most of these hardly ever include me.
They never did.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
And then the sky opened up...
...and God said "I gave you kids, didn't I?"
The Almighty said this by way of my sweetest-kid-in-the-world son, who twice came up to me as I was about to spiral out of control and said "I need to give my mom a hug". Twice. During both times that my throat developed that horrible lump, there he was, dissipating it with his hugs, burying his head in my chest.
Which, by the way, it's something my son might physically enjoy a little too much, but who am I to correct him, when I am simultaneously looking up and thanking God for this amazing little soul?
I am, indeed, one of the most fortunate women alive.
The Almighty said this by way of my sweetest-kid-in-the-world son, who twice came up to me as I was about to spiral out of control and said "I need to give my mom a hug". Twice. During both times that my throat developed that horrible lump, there he was, dissipating it with his hugs, burying his head in my chest.
Which, by the way, it's something my son might physically enjoy a little too much, but who am I to correct him, when I am simultaneously looking up and thanking God for this amazing little soul?
I am, indeed, one of the most fortunate women alive.
In mourning...
Ooohh... not a great day, today. For no particular reason. It feels like for the past two days I've been dragging sad on my shoe like stuck toilet paper... sigh...
Tonight the kids are off to their dad's (I think, I haven't heard from him yet as he's flying back from Europe). And no matter how hard I try, the few houses of cards that have tumbled seem more sad to me than usual... even those 2-card ones...
Am I in mourning? I think so. I'm in mourning because, according to Michelle, I realized a whole lot of change needs to take place, including the losses that come with it. I see how hard the work is if I am to stay true to myself. It turns out that acting and going with the grain is so much simpler, but so much worse for the spirit and the road you're supposed to take. Funnily enough, this doesn't have anything to do with my marriage...
Oh, and the family secrets are still coming. No matter how much I've distanced myself, I get pulled back in. It's so incredibly dysfunctional and incomprehensible. But just like the bowl of boiling water at Shabu-Shabu, crap comes to the surface and as soon as it's cleared a whole new set of crap floats up. And almost like on a timer, every couple of years or so...
Worst of all... I'm not PSMing. I wish I was, then I would be sure that by tomorrow everything would be better...
Tonight the kids are off to their dad's (I think, I haven't heard from him yet as he's flying back from Europe). And no matter how hard I try, the few houses of cards that have tumbled seem more sad to me than usual... even those 2-card ones...
Am I in mourning? I think so. I'm in mourning because, according to Michelle, I realized a whole lot of change needs to take place, including the losses that come with it. I see how hard the work is if I am to stay true to myself. It turns out that acting and going with the grain is so much simpler, but so much worse for the spirit and the road you're supposed to take. Funnily enough, this doesn't have anything to do with my marriage...
Oh, and the family secrets are still coming. No matter how much I've distanced myself, I get pulled back in. It's so incredibly dysfunctional and incomprehensible. But just like the bowl of boiling water at Shabu-Shabu, crap comes to the surface and as soon as it's cleared a whole new set of crap floats up. And almost like on a timer, every couple of years or so...
Worst of all... I'm not PSMing. I wish I was, then I would be sure that by tomorrow everything would be better...
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
You know you need a shower when...
Yesterday was the day to feed our new pets (#s 5 and 6), frogs Oggie and Lily (if my daughter has finally decided that's its name) and watched with sick fascination as they waited for the dumber-than-doornails crickets to get closer and closer to them so they could be devoured.
One of the crickets, I kid you not, literally walked up to the bigger frog and tapped it on its mouth with its front leg (???). Convinced the frog would get it, I was baffled when said frog just walked away and towards a little fake vine to climb back to the top.
Slightly annoyed by the lack of cruelty that by the laws of our natural food chain should have taken place, I picked up the frog and set it back down in front of a larger group of crickets. Lily, once again, headed for the vine.
Now I know that most of us "mommies" sometimes lack enough time in the day to take care of personal things like, I don't know... personal hygiene. That was the kind of day I'd had so far. Although I might have used the time to get my ass in the shower and leave the poor frog be, the stubborn me (an oxymoron?) was going to see a frog eat at least one cricket.
So I picked up Lily once more, and placed it down with the crickets. Thinking that there was a possibility that this frog could actually be more stubborn than I was, I watched head back for the vine. It then climbed up to a level spot and it stopped. There, as if to let me know what the problem was, it started cleaning itself where I had touched it.
I left to have a shower. Stupid frog.
One of the crickets, I kid you not, literally walked up to the bigger frog and tapped it on its mouth with its front leg (???). Convinced the frog would get it, I was baffled when said frog just walked away and towards a little fake vine to climb back to the top.
Slightly annoyed by the lack of cruelty that by the laws of our natural food chain should have taken place, I picked up the frog and set it back down in front of a larger group of crickets. Lily, once again, headed for the vine.
Now I know that most of us "mommies" sometimes lack enough time in the day to take care of personal things like, I don't know... personal hygiene. That was the kind of day I'd had so far. Although I might have used the time to get my ass in the shower and leave the poor frog be, the stubborn me (an oxymoron?) was going to see a frog eat at least one cricket.
So I picked up Lily once more, and placed it down with the crickets. Thinking that there was a possibility that this frog could actually be more stubborn than I was, I watched head back for the vine. It then climbed up to a level spot and it stopped. There, as if to let me know what the problem was, it started cleaning itself where I had touched it.
I left to have a shower. Stupid frog.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Thank you...
For making me write, for making me laugh, for those little things that make the days go by more pleasantly.
I need a haircut. The last haircut I had was good, but now that it's past my waist, I should visit the Scissor Man.
Unfortunately, and opposite of the way it used to be, I no longer have a Favorite Scissor Man, I don't even know of a Most Valuable Scissor Man and I live in L.A. I've definitely become too much of a mom. And yes, they have that "Hot Moms' Club" thing somewhere online, which might be a way to re-connect with those "in the know", but the name alone turned me off it. I even think they had kids' t-shirts that said "My mom is hotter than yours"... are you kidding me??
Back to hair and other such things... I once went to this hairdresser on Melrose on the advice of a friend. She raved about him and how he cut her hair with a razor and it was awesome...
I went in to see him and came out looking like Joan Jett and Chrissie Hynde's love child. Which is a more of a bad thing one would think, because if you're old enough to have attended the concerts, then you're too old to wear the look.
I promptly went to another salon for a quick fix. I got my hair straightened stick-straight. It didn't work perfectly, but given that I had my 20th class reunion I had to do something. Ugh. I now see the pics from the reunion and remember how much I hated that haircut and everything I had to do to maintain it looking semi-acceptable. Hence, my hair is now completely natural and has that "Adam and Eve in the Garden" length to it...
In a way it's good. It helps me cover up when I'm naked and giving a speech in front of all those people...**
** in a dream, of course!
I need a haircut. The last haircut I had was good, but now that it's past my waist, I should visit the Scissor Man.
Unfortunately, and opposite of the way it used to be, I no longer have a Favorite Scissor Man, I don't even know of a Most Valuable Scissor Man and I live in L.A. I've definitely become too much of a mom. And yes, they have that "Hot Moms' Club" thing somewhere online, which might be a way to re-connect with those "in the know", but the name alone turned me off it. I even think they had kids' t-shirts that said "My mom is hotter than yours"... are you kidding me??
Back to hair and other such things... I once went to this hairdresser on Melrose on the advice of a friend. She raved about him and how he cut her hair with a razor and it was awesome...
I went in to see him and came out looking like Joan Jett and Chrissie Hynde's love child. Which is a more of a bad thing one would think, because if you're old enough to have attended the concerts, then you're too old to wear the look.
I promptly went to another salon for a quick fix. I got my hair straightened stick-straight. It didn't work perfectly, but given that I had my 20th class reunion I had to do something. Ugh. I now see the pics from the reunion and remember how much I hated that haircut and everything I had to do to maintain it looking semi-acceptable. Hence, my hair is now completely natural and has that "Adam and Eve in the Garden" length to it...
In a way it's good. It helps me cover up when I'm naked and giving a speech in front of all those people...**
** in a dream, of course!
Forced Writer
I am now under certain obligations to write shit on this journal, whether I like it or not. And in my never-ending quest to please others, I now find myself at my computer, my cup still warm from the coffee I barely finished.
Sigh... Another day.
Ok, so there's a plan today. The plan is: a cookout with Gretchen in OC, coming home to wait for Debra to pickup Tom and Genevieve from LAX, giving Tom and Debra their Christmas gifts, spending makeup cuddle-time with Genevieve, putting everyone to bed, going on Facebook. Oh, and somewhere before meeting Tom, Debra and Genevieve, wrapping their Christmas gifts. Yes, I'm still wrapping Christmas gifts.
Maybe that's why I like the whole "waiting for the Magi" thing, because this way, no matter how much I procrastinate, there are always the Magi and the time they take getting here. Kind of like how you have a whole year after a wedding to give the newlyweds a gift, but I don't know the logic behind that one...
Anywhoo... don't know what else to write. I feel that hot spotlight shining on me, and the whole being-naked-in-front-of-everyone thing... I could write to my little group on "unknowns" before, but now, for an audience of one? That's hard...
I'm going to start a new entry.
Sigh... Another day.
Ok, so there's a plan today. The plan is: a cookout with Gretchen in OC, coming home to wait for Debra to pickup Tom and Genevieve from LAX, giving Tom and Debra their Christmas gifts, spending makeup cuddle-time with Genevieve, putting everyone to bed, going on Facebook. Oh, and somewhere before meeting Tom, Debra and Genevieve, wrapping their Christmas gifts. Yes, I'm still wrapping Christmas gifts.
Maybe that's why I like the whole "waiting for the Magi" thing, because this way, no matter how much I procrastinate, there are always the Magi and the time they take getting here. Kind of like how you have a whole year after a wedding to give the newlyweds a gift, but I don't know the logic behind that one...
Anywhoo... don't know what else to write. I feel that hot spotlight shining on me, and the whole being-naked-in-front-of-everyone thing... I could write to my little group on "unknowns" before, but now, for an audience of one? That's hard...
I'm going to start a new entry.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Morning phone
Mmmmmmm.... I'm glad I was still asleep and had no time to think. I'm happy I didn't see the caller ID, or I might have not answered.
It's funny how two people can assume all the wrong things, and in a single instant throw away something meaningful over something meaningless. But thanks to those above, and to the fact that my brain takes about an hour or two to be completely awake, I answered the call and was better for it. Because all in all, I'm still human, and getting me in the morning is very much like getting me when I'm drunk, or when my brain is at its most basic, cradling the most basic of human emotions... and that desperate need to feel connected.
Amazingly and fortunately, I didn't fuck up. Or I don't think I did, keeping my head above water and still managing to get some points across... and as I sit here and write I can't for the life of me remember what those points were... Only one that mattered: Please don't disappear. I won't disappear either.
And for now, that's all that matters.
It's funny how two people can assume all the wrong things, and in a single instant throw away something meaningful over something meaningless. But thanks to those above, and to the fact that my brain takes about an hour or two to be completely awake, I answered the call and was better for it. Because all in all, I'm still human, and getting me in the morning is very much like getting me when I'm drunk, or when my brain is at its most basic, cradling the most basic of human emotions... and that desperate need to feel connected.
Amazingly and fortunately, I didn't fuck up. Or I don't think I did, keeping my head above water and still managing to get some points across... and as I sit here and write I can't for the life of me remember what those points were... Only one that mattered: Please don't disappear. I won't disappear either.
And for now, that's all that matters.
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