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.

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.

Love

"I stare at my right arm. It bares your name. What a beautiful piece of art. It's my favorite tattoo. Tomorrow is Christmas' Eve. Merry Christmas, Love. That is your heavenly name, Love. That's what they called you in Heaven. You don't remember, you can't. I know because of my dreams. You were the most astonishingly beautiful angel that would dwell in the Garden.

When the dispute occurred, you stayed true to God. Satan was cast out along with his jinns. Humans were undecided. I was human and I remember you. I had seen you laying by the river east of Eden. The light you gave was spectacular. I sinned that day.

I saw you in all your splendor enter the water. I watched you bathe. I continued to watch as you ascended from the water, your light enough to blind humans, but I couldn't look away. You don't remember? It was forbidden for Angels and flesh to become one, but I had made my sinful mind up. I had to have you.

That day I saw your light. Love's light shone on my flesh with all its glory, your light. I know you can't remember. It's ok. I approached you that day, but your light burned too bright. You tried to warn me, but still I approached. I fell into a sleep and when I awoke you had taken me into your light. We danced that day and I realized why God called you Love. Then, after you had sat me back by the water, you were gone.

I ran through the Garden searching for you. Then the ground shook with God's wrath against Satan. The dispute began.

Every human was put in a deep sleep. We were reborn here on Earth and given the test to seek God or Satan. Human souls were with a jinn, one of Satan's Angels that chose him the day of the dispute. That's why I battle with Good and Evil. My whole life I have been seeking your light... Love's light.

That's your real name, you don't remember? I have found you here on Earth. Here, I am able to be one with you. Please take me into your light again. Keep me warm, Love.

Dedicated to the Angel called Love.
She is the light."

PMS - A great thing

Today I was feeling incredibly emotional. I now know that the feelings were aided by the fact that in a week I will... you know. I used to PMS a day or two before the event, but now it seems to come a week prior, which seems so strange. I personally think it's because my body already knows I ovulated and a pregnancy didn't take place, so it's sad.

Regardless, PMS time for me lately seems to give me new perspective on a lot of things. For example, today I felt the sadness I felt so many times before over my relationship with the man I was married to (now for) 14 years. Although we've been separated for a year, the farther we are the better the view gets from the outside. The things I once internalized and depressed me are coming out, and I'm able to see them more subjectively. What insight! one may think, but all it did today was make me cry.

I cried over the sadness I used to feel. Over the loneliness I felt when he traveled and how it only seemed to augment when he returned and didn't have time for me. Or us. That, compiled with the numerous times he was unfaithful, made me feel that the whole thing was unfair and no matter how much I tried, it was never going to be what I wanted it to be.

So I sat at Mass, next to Norma, envisioning how so many times I thought that by now I would be sitting with my husband and my children, all grateful to God for our many blessings. Instead, he will probably never attend church again, and my kids will not get that family unity in faith feeling I was hoping they would grow to know.

Sigh... So what. During the sermon, whatever the priest said made me realize that the effort has to be mine. I am the captain of my children's ship until they venture out on their own, and if there is anything that they do not get now can only be my responsibility. Damn right.

All I ask for now is the strength and guidance to give my children the hope I found in my beliefs, my faith and in Christ. And his Mother Mary. And the forgiveness for the many times I continue to mess that up.

I hope no one reads this...

Unbelievable

I just realized that it's been 5 years since I started this blog. And granted, I've not written it diligently for the entire five years, but it has been fun going back in time and reading the massive amount of crap I've managed to pull out of my... head.

Life is so different now. I suddenly grew up. I feel like "yes I am solidly standing on my own ship", but unfortunately I don't know where it's heading, or how to sail it.

to be continued...

My One True Love

I swear, if a man ever dedicates the song "Oh, Babe, What Would You Say?" to me I will know at that very moment that before my eyes stands my one true love.

Corniest song I ever heard, but a song I adore nevertheless.  And I'm changing my name to Sweet Lollipop.

Have I a hope for half a chance

To even ask if I could dance with you, you oo

Would you greet me or politely turn away

Would there suddenly be sunshine on a cold and rainy day

Oh, Babe,

What would you say?

For there are you sweet lollipop

Here am I with such a lot to say, hey hey

Just to walk with you along the Milky Way

To caress you through the night time

Bring you flowers everyday

Oh Babe,

What would you say?

Just so, Baby I know,

I know I could be so in love with you

And I know that I could make you love me too

And if I could only hear you say you do, oo oo oo oo

But anyway,

What would you say?

Just so, Baby I know

I know I could be so in love with you

And I know that I could make you love me too

And if I could only hear you say you do, oo oo oo oo

But anyway

What would you say?

Thirty Years Ain't Nothin'

When my father died I was twelve years old. Unfortunately I never had true confirmation of his passing as I never got to see him with my own two eyes once he died. I was shipped off to a friend's house for about 4 days, not to be seen nor heard by anyone. This was definitely not for my own good, as by then I had already seen a friend's mom's cadaver (cancer), my grandmother's (old), my grandfather's (lonely without my grandmother) and most likely a couple of others I don't even remember. My sisters, my brother, my mom, his girlfriend... I'm sure even our dog got to see him, but not me. I didn't get to go to the funeral, I didn't get to say goodbye, I didn't rummage through his things to keep one or two of his shirts like my siblings did (they would wear them as pajamas). One of my sisters noticed my empty hands and gave me one of the shirts she had absconded to proudly have as my own. Then I, like the others, could pretend to be sleeping near dad, smelling his scent still on his clothing, knowing we'd never see him again.

At times throughout my life I would dream about him, still alive, a little older. The first time he was crossing our old street, coming at me. The second time he was on some steps. Another time, he had a full head of totally white hair and I believe he even wore a white suit.

But somewhere along my rocky road the dreams began to change. Yes he was still around, but the dreams no longer seemed like dreams, not while I was dreaming them. Does that make sense?

I would be somewhere with my mostly insane family (the insane part is my reality) and they were all clearly hiding something from me. One way or another I heard that my dad was still alive and had been in hiding for the past 30 years. Everyone knew this but me. I would try and try to get more information as to his whereabouts, mostly out of fear that he would die before I got to see him again.

Ever since, every single one of my dreams about him are the same. I finally get to see him, but he has to leave, or I'm about to get his address and I can't, or don't get to really see him. He told me in my dream that he went into hiding to not hurt me anymore (he was a depressed alcoholic). And, as I said, everyone knew about this but me. The whole thing is SO unbelievably real, so convincing, so emotionally correct.

I wake up from this dream with a feeling so strong I can only describe it as a desperate longing for my father. It's not just missing him, it's this strange, strong longing that I can't recall ever truly feeling for someone before, and it goes on for days.

My sister tried to help me with all of this yesterday, and although she suggested meditation and different ways to "connect" with him, it's just not good enough. I need him here, damnit. It's a wound that never heals, like an ulcer in the walls of your heart. Sometimes it flares up more than others, but if you think about it you realize it's always there... and there's always that pain.

So most days you don't think about it, until you dream...

G