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Legerdemain's existence

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to the root [16 Jul 2007|02:01pm]
it seems that i only have something to say here when i have crossed the line from "miserable" to "abhorrence of existence". to be fair, i am never all that far from "miserable"; just as there is a bar on every corner in a small town.

i officially moved in with SBM in december '06. the reality is that we started dating in may '04 and as of july '04, i spent every non-job-related hour in his abode. when i was ruthlessly fired in early november '04, i curled up on his couch and there i stayed until september '05 when i found a job [read: employment that was not synonymous with suicide]. since then, i have continued to spend every non-job-related hour with him.

even writing that paragraph gives me goosebumps. why? i don't know. i have been mulling over that since the topic of cohabitation first presented it's ugly head. october '05 was when the issue first came up. it was an ugly conversation, rife with misunderstandings, accusations and feelings of being unloved [equal parts of all on both sides]. why? the surface reasons are best described as "symptoms" of an underlying affliction. there is no cure for the common cold; we can only treat the cough and fever. well, my throat is sore and this fever is far from breaking. i need to find the absolute source of this consumption.

the more time that i spend with my mother [all of which is wonderful], i realize that we are almost mirror-images of each other. this is disturbing on many levels. i have inherited her strength of character and impossibly-thick skull. i am sure that these, and all of the other traits, can be used as strengths if only i could get my McGuyver up as easily as my Irish. one trait that has been called into the spotlight recently is "hording" or "survival". it seems that my mother and i are always in survival-mode. we horde groceries and shiny things in the event of apocalypse or a break-up. we will be stingy with our lovers, but give everything to family and friends. we draw lines in the sand and call it "self-respect", when in fact those lines are fears dancing. oh, and communication is not our strong suit. [note: as i write this post, i am struggling with the words. veritably, i feel as though i am 6 years old and fumbling through an explanation of the 11th dimension. please accept this as my apology for lack of clarity, decent vocabulary and sentence structure and whining. again.]

there are times when SBM and i run into a road-block. he genuinely has an interest in constructively working to remove the blockage and continue happily forward. though, i believe his tone and approach could be modified, i recognize his intent after the fact. when we are in the moment and he makes an earnest attempt at "clean up", i completely lose my shit. i'm sorry. there is no nice way to say it. i instantly slide back to 12-year-old intelligence: angst-ridden, tearful, ON THE DEFENSE, ready to quit [just so you stop "yelling" at me] and my patented iamnottalkingyouaremean face. oh, and i stop speaking all together. that tough-as-nails-i-can-handle-anything demeanor just flies out the window along with the speech-center of my brain.

i have progressed to the point where i been able to staunch tears and stoicism long enough to try and talk myself out of anger. i begin by asking myself why i am angry. the child in me points a sticky finger at SBM, cries "he's mean!" and promptly reaches for the cheesecake. OBESITY EXPLAINED! my higher levels of consciousness explain that i just can't get over myself and that all of these problems are the result of hard-wired defense mechanisms. i then ask myself how i can reprogram my responses. i melt down and i sob, "i don't know." more cheesecake ...oh and a half-gallon of mint chocolate chip. the child and the higher conscious commence to feeding each other and whining about how horrible adults are.

now that i am removed from the stressful situation, i would like to "verbally" examine these defense mechanisms and maybe a basic plan of action on how to reprogram myself.

i have been "thinking" about it for so long. the act of typing it out and proofreading that result may help.

i guess the real issue here is that i never assigned much value to myself. i don't know if this is my mother's fault, although other people (including therapists) do place the blame with her. she and i never got along; it's only been in the last 4 years that we have been able to have a relationship. the journey to this point has been wrought with horrors and always the feeling of impending doom. we have arrived, however, and the fruits of labor are sweet. i believe that we had such a hard time because:
* she did not want children
* she considered abortion, but due to her inverted uterus, it was virtually impossible for her to conceive. i was the miracle baby.
* she wanted me to be self-sufficient. her method to achieve this centered around reminding me EVERY SINGLE DAY that love does not exist, money is of the utmost importance, one should not depend on anyone - especially if the "anyone" is a male... the list goes on, but i think that these are the most important points.

my childhood was spent moving between two households: my mother and her extended family (my aunts, uncles and grandparents). whenever my mother "could no longer deal" with me, she would send me to my grandparents house. that 4-block walk was always a difficult one; it became infinitely more difficult after my grandparents and great aunt kate had passed away. jesus, i miss them.

even now, i feel that i have no home.

the issue of "home" is a very touchy one with me. i never felt that i truly belonged anywhere, especially where i was told that i was wanted. "they must be lying. i will not subsist on their pity." i have only recently been able to accept the love and respect of my aunts and uncles. unconditional love is an extremely valuable commodity, as demand severely out-weighs supply.

i guess you could say that i have "trust issues".

my mother made such an issue of money... according to her, we were always broke and of course, [according to her] i did not respect her and i had no appreciation for money. "it doesn't grow on trees, you know." she would buy staple items and treats for her patients, but [it seemed] that she couldn't care less about me. i am sure that my memory is faulty, but i don't even think we chatted for the better part of my life. she would yell at me for "whatever", i would apologize for the imagined or actual transgression and continue snaking while watching television.

my feeling of homelessness has actually brought SBM's feelings for me into question. i always thought that "home" was a feeling that i would find with someone special. not necessarily a lover, but someone that i could connect with. i guess i have turned that off. even now, when i go to visit my family in OurTown, i do not feel as if i am "home". i could not have a greater love than what i feel towards them; those that have shown me what unconditional love is. i feel great comfort and familiarity when i am with them; i feel welcome. but nay, that is not my home. nor is my home with SBM, though i believe that one day it could be. he has noted that i am ready to leave at a moment's notice. baby, that's years of practice. my formative years were not spent "communicating" and "making things better." ... when i heard "i am unhappy with this" it was usually followed by "get the fuck out". i'm sorry, i guess that is still ringing in my ears.

maybe i need to make a home for myself, alone.

it was only a few years ago, when i stopped feeling as though i was completely alone this planet. this was after i escaped theaccountant and before i met SBM. i formed a connection with the rest of humanity when i realized that we are all broken; it's not just me. i have gained some semblance of self-respect, a bit of confidence and i feel that i am "on the move". my biggest break-though? i stopped wishing for death on a daily basis; now, i only find myself seriously considering suicide a few times a month.

this is not an exaggeration.

i moved in with theaccountant because i listened to his lies and i believed that no one loved me except for him. it was not long before i realized that he did not love me either. and yes, it really will stop your heart when you hear, "if i don't love you, no one ever will." of course, it's obvious that statement is a simple tactic of control. i usually see through that sort of thing. but he wore me down with other abusive words; those that slipped through the cracks of my defense and took over like cancer, leaving me vulnerable to even the most textbook of strategies. after living with that abuse for 8 months, i swallowed my pride and went back to my family. later that that year [2003], my mother and i started building our current relationship.

theaccountant took whatever money that i was earning and monies that i had saved. when i left, i submitted a bill for $5,500. he paid $700, even though he had agreed to pay $5,500. currently, he is hoping that i die, so that his debt is forgotten. during the 8 months at garysdeathcamp, i went to school full time and held 2 jobs. i gave him my paychecks to cover rent, groceries, car insurance (he had to drive me to/from my night job. for school and my other job, i took the bus. i did not have my license yet.) and his shopping trips to wal-mart to buy the damndog special treats and whatever else theaccountant felt that he needed; generally things for himself.

when i left, i took a duffel bag full of clothes. he told me that i was worthless; an easy mark. he explained that i was fat and ugly, which rendered me completely undeserving of him. i could go on, but i don't see the point.

there are times when SBM speaks, that i think, "jesus, i thought i had escaped garysdeathcamp." i know that i am being dramatic.

so i "officially" moved in with SBM in december. no, i am not happy with the arrangement. originally, he wanted me to pay for half of everything:
* rent - cost of barn = $600
* utilities = $200
* phone/internet/tv = $100
* oil (approx. per year) = $1500

i did not feel that it was feasible for me to pay half of everything, because i would only be left with a smidgen of savings at the end of the month. this made me think of thedeathcampscenario. as a contradiction to this, i feel that if we purchased a house together, i would be more than happy to give everything i have to that end.

currently, i pay for nothing but groceries. stu feels that this is wholly unsatisfactory and selfish. he is correct.

i feel as though my back is against the wall; i feel that i have no choices. he does not want to buy a house yet, he does not want to move to another rental. i would prefer to live anywhere but where we currently are. IT IS NOT MY HOME. that place is filled with his memories, his parties, his old roommates, girlfriends and loves; i know the stories of the stains. IT IS NOT MY HOME. he just tells me to get over it. i'm sorry, i was hoping that he would be a little bit more receptive.

"what do you want me to do? move every time i get a new girlfriend?" he has a valid point, but i don't think it's fair that i should "just get over it". or am i just that selfish?
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[21 Jun 2007|03:47pm]
i held tightly on to the umbrella, not because i was afraid that the wind would take it from me, but because i was hoping that it would take me with it.
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breathe in [15 Jun 2007|11:02pm]
since i last visited this space, i have done the following:

* repaired my windshield. i was wrong; the crack did not warrant replacement of the windshield. this cost $60 and if the stars align, may be reimbursed by the insurance company.

* completed several books; most of which are part of a series. -an oddity for me, as i tend to steer clear of that sort of commitment.

* danced on the edge of several nervous breakdowns. why? i worry about things that i cannot change. i guess if i exercise those muscles enough, then one day i will have strength to accept things of this nature. Dear, God, Santa, Mother Nature, Nessie, Tooth Fairy...

* acknowledged our [read: SBM and i] third anniversary. i don't want to talk about it.

* fell into a drunken crying mess. this was last weekend. i don't feel ashamed to admit this for several reasons:
* there are no witnesses
* i was hungry for a damn good cry
* the only evidence was my very puffy eyes the next morning
* i felt so much lighter after i expended that energy.
* these things happen, don't they? i suffered no ill-effects from the letting-loose of the crazy. thank you.

* completed my semester. that's all i can really say about it. i am taking the summer off and i will be returning to Intermediate Accounting II and Women in Literature in the Fall. please note that i will suffer through the accounting class, but i am greatly anticipating the FemLit class. dear femlit course: please don't suck

for as busy and crazy as things have been, i seem to have very little to update. i keep telling myself that i simply begin typing, then the thoughts will follow. but it always that i am only exercising futility.

i have also spent much time in and out of family affairs. creating resumes, job-hunting, coaching on job-issues, wishing that i had access to a magic wand.



as always, i am on the move and still in one piece. good to see this place again; i believe i will frequent this space more often.
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prayers [15 Jun 2007|03:38am]
i don't know why this thought has just struck me, i don't know, but i just had to put it down somewhere.

...in september 2005, i found myself in Rosalyn Chapel in the English countryside. inside this sacred old church, is a book that is open to the public. in this book, one may write prayers that they hope will be put a bit closer to god simply by being associated with this church. i wrote a prayer in that book. i penned a wish for peace in my family and possibly, if this god is feeling generous, some semblance of happiness.

it was barely two months later when my aunt margie passed away of still unknown causes.

i do not know if these two events are related. although i do believe that her passing was nothing less than a weight being lifted from the shoulders of my family. veritably, there was something of a sigh of relief from the lot of us that day. we mourned, especially since she was a fairly young woman at the time of her passing. and the aftermath of her death was nothing short of a legal tangle that took 14 months to sort.

we all came out of it. and even though not one of us really enjoyed margie's company, she was most certainly loved. strained though the relationships were, at least the relationship existed.

i wonder if that was the answer to my written wish. i wonder what brought about this whole train of thought.
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mumbling in the dark [03 Apr 2007|11:42am]
there is so much going on these days; both inside of my head AND in the real world.

the work-situation has been suffering on the bleeding edge of change. my immediate group of co-workers is rather small and intimate, but there is deceit and theft. beyond that, i feel thoroughly distracted; unable to focus on anything for more than a few moments. i have been ignoring my studies, and i have not finished a book in months.

i feel unsettled.

i believe that this is a matter of the heart, not necessarily a matter of love.




and maybe after a bit more distraction, i will be able to form a coherent sentence.
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there must be something wrong [22 Mar 2007|09:23am]
not one hour ago, i was cruising along the turnpike in comfortably medium-traffic. WXPN hummed ion the radio, and i was going about my normal business of trying to make the best of the long drive to work. as suddenly as the ice took me not one month ago, a crack like a gun shot made me cringe and swerve. i thought better of careening into the next lane when i realized that it was no gunshot or other purposeful projectile; it was an errant stone that made a neat gash and starred crack 6 inches down and left of the center of my windshield.

the crack cannot be repaired. the windshield will cost $300 to replace.

something in this universe no longer wants me in the drivers seat of this car. my baby, my best friend, my Forward.

i don't want to see you go baby, but this is turning into a very unhealthy relationship. was i too dependent upon you? a needy and clingy partner? i am so sorry, i never realized the strain that i was putting on you, love. maybe we are simply not destined to be together; out relationship is of the star-crossed sort, juliet, my love. my intention was never to cause you harm; my thoughts of you were always loving. did you feel slighted that i found myself behind the wheel of another? those outings could not be avoided! i am so sorry, love, i never meant to hurt you. maybe you feel unappreciated, as i feel in every other facet of my life. i did not whisper sweet-everythings as often as i should, nor did i vacuum your carpets, wax your external curves or treat your inner-plastics to the coatings that they deserved. i should have cleaned your windows more often and treated you to the tint that i have been promising for three summers. oh, my Forward, how i have neglected you all this time; while you, dear, have treated me so well. when i dented your sweet rear bumper on SBM's audaciously metal fender, you did not whine or swerve out of alignment. i fixed it! you have the cutest little scar on your rump now. it gives you character, baby. even after our falling-out last month, the $7500 repair, you drive the same as you always did. tight, responsive, tires tight to road. i always enjoyed driving with you, even when i did not enjoy having make the drive, you were always a pleasure to cruise. we're a team, baby, don't push me away now. you have no mechanical problems, and though i may have a few, we should still be able to stay together.

don't let this be the end of us. unseen forces are trying to pull us apart. but i will fight for us. you are my first love, my only love. no other auto will ever compare to you, love. this battle has been won by a mischievous rock and a treacherous road, but the war is not over. i will not give up on you.
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i know no bounds [09 Mar 2007|09:17pm]
my baby has come home to me.

she is shiny and clean. fixed and repaired. my face is flushed, and i am moving right along.
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mo' money [28 Feb 2007|12:37pm]
the new, official estimate for repairs to my car:

$7,150

the before-crash-value: $13,105
amount damages that would incite "totaling" the vehicle: $10,605
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still standing [25 Feb 2007|10:14pm]
i drove my mother's car to visit stu's friends, he was a passenger and the mood was somber. silence fell between us like day falls into night. he had asked me if i wanted to sign his goddaughter's birthday card; i asked him if he wanted me to. he responded with, "if i wanted you to, then i wouldn't have asked." that made no sense to me. i ended up signing the card, thinking that my name is a burden to the card-stock, that my own legs cannot hold me up.

the 25 mile drive was not arduous, in fact, it was rather relaxing. traffic was light, the sky: overcast, the weather: had not arrived. i pulled into the drive-way, turned around, parked. upon exiting the vehicle, i noted a hissing sound. stu asked, "what is that sound? do you hear that?"

oh, well, that would be my mother's front passenger-side tire deflating. upon realization of this, i start to crumble. tears immediately rise to the occasion; a torrent of profanity was unleashed from my mouth. "i didn't hit anything. i didn't run over a car-swallowing sink-hole. i did not trek through a construction site. i don't understand."

stu had turned away and was walking towards his friend's house. i called to him: "i realize that you are not responsible for my vehicular maladies, but would you happen to have a suggestion as to what i might do at this juncture?"

he stopped, turned, "i was going to announce us to my friends, and then i was going to ask if the man of the house would let me borrow his jack and tools so that i can change your tire. however, it would better suit your purpose if you did not insult the person who you are requesting assistance from."

me: "i was not insulting you. i was only asking for a suggestion; i was not commissioning you for assistance.

we went inside the house and made our hello's to friends, their family and the dogs. stu and his friend took to changing my tire, and i chatted with the mother and the birthday girl.

later, after my tire was changed, i thanked stu and his friend for helping me. they plugged the old tire, filled it with air and put in place of the full-size spare.

please note that i damn-near experienced a mental break-down over this flat tire.

the goddaughter opened her gifts. stu gave her $800 in a card, and her parents gave her a car, just as long as she promised that she pass her driver's test this third time around. she cried and giggled and bounced around the room. i was stinking jealous and angry at myself for feeling that way. my mother gave a me strand of black pearls for my 18th birthday. my aunt gave me semi-expensive shampoo and a "welcome to adulthood, i am so sorry". the strange thing is that me family is in the same financial status as this girl's family... where did i go wrong?

sherry (who hits on stu, and reminds him that "older women are where it's at), who is the mother's best friend arrived with her family: daughter and boyfriend with their child, and sherry's youngest son. sherry's granddaughter was the center of attention for the next 3 hours. the child was passed around and cried every time she was moved to a different person. the baby cried when the person that held her sat down, so the baby-totem must be standing. all the women (except for me) cooed, poked and tickled the baby, they marveled at "how small she is", "those eyes", "her chubby cheeks", "what a happy baby!" and of course "how beautiful she is".

is it time for cake and ice cream?

at 5:20pm, all non-family left, except for the birthday girl's boyfriend, stu and i. we went out to dinner at a Red Robin 15 miles away, 15 miles further from stu's house. the family and boyfriend went in one car, their youngest daughter, stu and i went in my mother's car. it was snowing heavily and the roads were very messy. i slid several times on the winding road that took us to the highway.

the meal at Red Robin was OK, there was nothing spectacular about the food or drinks. although, they serve their onion rings in a surprisingly phallic manner. the mother arranged to have the RR staff sing and clap for their daughter and bring her free ice cream that she snubbed. with her newly-fattened wallet (compliments of UNCLE STUUUU), she, the boyfriend and the younger sister walked over to aeropostal. they returned after having discovered that all the stores were closed.

we embarked on the ride back to the family's house. i slid several times on the highway, a woman almost ran me off the road (i ended up in the emergency lane) because she was staring so intently into the vortex of snow attacking our cars that she drifted over into my lane.

white-knuckled, i was convinced that i was going to skid into a tree. stu continually made mention of how nervous i was, following with offers to drive. the roads were awful, visibility was almost nill and the temperature was dropping. the family was going to be putting on a movie, stu wanted to stay and watch. it was already after 8pm and travel was horrendous, i was unnerved by the prospect of traveling at 11pm with freezing rain and even lower temperatures. stu didn't think that my fears were legitimate.

damn it, i was just in an accident not even a week ago... let me have my anxiety and a goddamn piece of cheesecake.

i dropped off the younger sister; stu and i said our goodbyes. i thanked them for their hospitality and apologized for not wanting to stay. stu said, "she's just scared."

...

back on the road, i slid several times. on the highway, driving was a bit easier. i was almost out of gas; i pulled into a gas station. of course, i pull up to the ONLY PUMP that didn't take credit cards. (there was a sign on the pump: Sorry, must pay credit/debit inside. THIS PUMP ONLY.) i trudged into the convenience store, handed the man my credit card, showed him my ID, and proceeded to pump my gas. the handle on the gas pump would not stay in the "on" position; my cursing prompted stu's attention, who curtly explained to me that the little "ridge-thing" broke off and now it has to be held in the "on position". whatever. i left him to it.

people, i am losing my shit here.
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further downhill [25 Feb 2007|11:38am]
saturday morning/early afternoon was relatively uneventful. i slept alone, only my over-stuffed Stitch kept me company in bed. i woke around 10:30 and i stayed in bed until 12:30; lounging on pillows and finishing a borrowed book. during this time, SBM went to the bathroom twice, neither time did he peek into the bedroom to check on me. i am 13 years old again, i live in silence and i detest my existence. in the living room, SBM civilly greeted me with a "good afternoon", i returned the greeting in kind. i channel-surfed. he offered me some of his oatmeal, i declined. we watched a full movie and a half; i made a conservative lunch for myself and SBM made a private phone call on the upstairs-floor of the house. the walls are thin; he was calling his friend about purchasing the pick-up truck. they made arrangements for driving down together, examining the vehicle and possibly completing a title-transfer if the purchase is to be made.

when he made it back to the living room, stu was dressed and vainly searching for his checkbook. i was curled up in the corner between the couch and a chair, Stitch was in my lap and my head was resting on the arm of the chair. stu informed me that he would be driving down with dfromthesouth to look at the truck. he then asked me if i wanted to go along, i replied evenly with a "no". after he stomped around looking for his checkbook, he then started complaining about how difficult it would be to move vehicles around with only 2 people when there would likely be three vehicles. i suggested that he carpool with dfromthesouth; "that won't work". another 5 minutes of complaints prompted me to offer my assistance. stu stated that he didn't "need" me, but my presence would be helpful.

well, gee.

i left my perch and started towards the bedroom so that i could change my clothes. he stopped me with a stern, "if you don't want to go, don't go. i don't like your attitude."

me: "i have no feelings toward what you want. if you need my help, i'll come along. and for the record: YOU HAVE NOT SEEN 'ATTITUDE'."

stu reiterated that he has no need for me, but that i would make things easier.

...

dfromthesouth arrived, entered the house and immediately asked me how i was, what happened with the accident, etc. we chatted while stu lost himself. it was decided that stu and i would drive down in my mother's car, following dfromthesouth to the truck.

...

the two men circled around the truck as if in a sort of initiation. the engine started on the second try with a triumphant wheeze and the men grunted while looking at the moving parts under the hood. dfromthesouth talked about the truck, relating a few stories and ended with asking me if i was sure that i wanted to purchase the truck. i shook my head and told him that the truck was not for me, stu had decided to purchase it for himself. but yes, i do like it.

...

i followed dfromthesouth (with stu as a passenger) to the office where the title transfer would occur. i met a wonderfully spry 85 year-old woman who made me wish that i had an ounce of her gumption even at this age of 23. she was amazing, truly an inspiration.

the transaction was finished and we were on our way. dfromthesouth had errands to run in the area so he was off, stu had decided that he wanted to stop at a gas station to purchase power steering fluid and get back to the truck. we then:

* drove the truck to the gas station where we stopped for the PS fluid.
* i followed, just in case
* he filled up the gas tank (it was bone-dry)
* topped off the brake fluid
* prodded at things under the hood
* filled the tires with air
* i sat in my mother's car waiting for him
* both drove back to the house where the truck was located
* loaded the truck with items from the house (those things that were not going to be sold and offered to us)
* finally headed back to stu house

at this point, i was achy and very grumpy. i had no gloves with me and i was not dressed warmly enough to be working outside. the cold had attacked my lower back, hips, knees and feet. i was in an interminable mood.

...

at stu's house, i immediately took to my comfy-clothes and swaddled in my wool wrap, i settled into the comfy-chair. stu asked if i was hungry and stated that he was. i told him that the fridge was full of meals that i had already prepared. he said, "oh, that sounds good." i waited to see if he was going to heat something for us.

finally, the maid went to work. my next tattoo will be a small apron, so that i don't ever forget how easily one can be placed into indentured servitude.

i reunited with my glass of wine. i finished the bottle and slept fitfully, though 4 hours less than our SBM did, because maids do not have the luxury of sleeping in.

and so, here i am on sunday morning, being vaguely ignored by our dear SBM. i believe that he is unloading the truck. i would offer to help, but he doesn't need me.

we are expected to go to a birthday party for his goddaughter; she turns 18 today. I DO NOT WANT TO GO. he is going to give her several hundred dollars and pat her on the head. this for a girl who does not ever send a card or have a christmas gift for him, she never calls to say hi... but she always greets him with " UNCLE STUUUU" and a big hug. well, if he gave me $100 every time i saw him, i would be excited to see him too. her parents will probably give her a car. she will scream and bounce around the room, giggling and crying.

i hate birthday parties. my feelings are not limited to other people's parties, but my own as well... which would explain why i have not had a birthday party since i turned 7.

it is going to snow today, with a mixture of sleet and a nice topping of ice and freezing rain. i suspect that several people will cancel, so my anxiety of being sober in a group of people that i don't know will be slightly lessened.

i really do not want to go.
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don't need nobody [23 Feb 2007|10:01pm]
i had big plans to return from work, change into comfortable clothes and indulge in a large glass of port. i finished the dishes that SBM left for me, poured a glass of wine, took a much-needed sip, and took 1, 2, 3 steps towards the stairs that would take me to the bedroom that houses my comfort-clothes. my cell phone rang. it was our dear SBM asking if i wanted to ride down the bookstore and pick up the books that he had ordered for me the week before (as part of a valentine's gift). sure. i stayed dressed, i placed my glass of wine in the fridge and i waited for him to arrive.

...

he offered me kisses and asked how my day had gone; i became very emotional at the re-telling of my toothbrush's suicide. i talked about the silliness that had happened during work; the five-minute phone call that was a thorn in my side for the entire day. his day and week had been rather uneventful. i told him that i had received a phone call from the insurance field agent regarding the estimate to repair my baby; the $6,430.06 estimate. the estimate that made my heart stop. my deductible is $500... but... my car has to go into major surgery. i wondered (then, and wonder now) if she would ever be the same, or is this an effective automotive lobotomy?

SBM brought up the issue of the pickup truck that i was looking at. he stated that he "doesn't think that it's the right car for" me, that he "be responsible for any repairs that cropped up" and he didn't think that i "would want that kind of responsibility". i stated that i wanted a vehicle that is heavier than my Matrix, something that has larger, grumpy tires and would be more sensible to drive in the snow. he told me that he wanted to buy it for himself and that he would let me drive it in inclement weather. i reminded him that i never really commissioned him to work on my car for me. in years past, we have done oil changes on my car, he has shown me how to remove and replace my tires and de-glaze my brakes. i would have done it myself, but i did not know how; NOW I DO.

i was so angry, that tears immediately sprang to my eyes. i told him that he would not be responsible for the maintenance, and that i didn't require him to do anything. he brought up a situation that occurred a month ago:

i was driving to his house from school. my brakes were squeaking. upon my arrival, i asked him if he could take few minutes over the weekend and check my breaks to see if there was a problem with them. we had not received any snow or ice yet, but i knew the coming weeks would bring such weather. he refused. he told me to wait until i had my car inspected (march). i explained that i was uneasy about driving in inclement conditions if my brakes are not up to par. he suggested that i get my car inspected that weekend; i did not have my new registration or sticker. he then suggested that i pay an additional $60 to get those straight-away.

i am still fuming about this. in his defense, i did not realize that "checking" my breaks is just as tedious as replacing them. however, when he refused to even look at them, it fell right into my theory that he doesn't care about me, i am only a *convienience* to him, and he cannot be bothered to remedy my vehicular maladies because i rank well below the cat on his list of important people.


my anger was only due in part to SBM wanting to buy the truck; i was mostly angry because he didn't even want to be bothered with putting me in a safe vehicle; he assumed that i would force him to rescue me from car trouble. and to be completely truthful, i was insanely jealous of the fact that he was MORE THAN WILLING to fix femaleicannotstand's car on a weekly basis, but he would not extend any courtesy of that kind to me. worse yet, he and i live together, he has stated that he wants to marry me... but he is/has been only friends with this girl. what gives?

that's why i was angry. my rage due in full to the fact that i am absolutely nothing to this man.

and now i can't sleep. thank you.
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puddles, mud and tire marks [22 Feb 2007|11:52pm]
before i went to bed this morning, i called my manager and left a voice-mail stating that i had been in a car accident and i would like to take thursday as a personal day to make necessary arrangements and do what needed to be done.

no one called to see if i was ok.

i slept until 10:30am. i walked around in my underwear, ate a bowl of cereal (with 1% milk) and cuddled with Mugsy. eventually i talked myself into doing the dishes, but not before i procrastinated just a bit more. at 11:15, i contacted my insurance company and submitted my claim for the damages to my car. i told the woman my story... driving down the road, came up to a curve and i slowed down, spin, ran into a tree, slid sideways into a ditch. she assigned my a claim a number and gave me the name of the claims adjuster ... IN FLORIDA.

an hour later, mr.florida called me and said that he was having difficulty following what had happened. so i went through it again.

he: "oh! you said CURVE. oh, well, that makes a big difference."

mr.florida informed me that the report that the woman had transcribed stated that i ran into a curb.

he told me that a field agent would be sent to where my car is being stored, where he would appraise the damage and take photos. A copy of the estimate would be sent to me. regardless of what the estimate states, if there are other hidden damages, those will also be covered by my insurance. so long as i pay my $500 deductible.

my mother arrived at stu's house around 1:45; i was tidying up a bit in the living-room and kitchen. we drove to the scene of the accident and i took pictures of the stretch of road, the tree that i kissed, my headlight shrapnel and the impressive set of tire marks on the shoulder of the road. those tire-marks that my mother pointed out from 100 yards. after seeing the road and the area that i crashed, mum became very upset. "this is a dangerous road" was repeated over and over. directly across the road from where i "landed", is a 20-foot drop into a creek. there are no trees or guardrail to prevent one from driving over the edge. it was a miracle that after i hit the tree, i did not go careening off the side of the road.

we then drove to the body shop where my baby is being kept. i took photos of the damage and grabbed a few things out of the car. the owner of the shop opened the locked gate for us, and took an unofficial inspection of my car. it was in his estimation that i "couldn't have been going very fast, because the airbag did not deploy and the damage is not that extensive. it's uglier than it looks... but it won't cost any less than $4500 to fix."

it was so warm today, that much of the frozen snow bordering properties and sidewalks melted. this made for a fair-amount of mud in the cage where my car was. as i was walking around the car snapping photos, my feet were being sucked into it.

my mother has allowed me to take her car for the duration of the repairs. this is feasible only because she is not working at the present. since there is no rental provision in our insurance policy, this makes my life much easier. although, if i really had no transportation, i would have stayed at my homestead and someone would have driven me to and from work.

i did not call my family until this morning to tell them what happened. they were upset that i had been in an accident but where relieved that, overall, everything is ok. i had decided not to call them, because i felt no need to start a panic at 11:00 at night... especially since there wasn't a thing anyone could have done for me.

so far, this accident has not caused such an upheaval in my life... but still feel very awkward and upset about the ordeal. mainly because i wasn't doing anything wrong... i had not been drinking, i was not speeding, i was wearing my seat-belt... and still it happened.

this is all too much for me to wrap my head around.
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what now? [22 Feb 2007|10:48pm]
i brushed my teeth. i placed the toothbrush on it's shelf just above the toilet. i removed my hand and went to begin washing my face, when my peripheral vision caught a falling object.

the falling object was my toothbrush committing suicide; a very graceful swan-dive into the as-yet-unflushed toilet.
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spin and spun [22 Feb 2007|10:21pm]
exactly 24 hours ago, one full rotation of this planet, found me careening into a tree and sliding sideways to a wretched stop on an icy road in a ditch.

when i tended to this blog regularly, i frequently made an issue of the weather. never was i fearful of it, but i did have a great respect for the beast. i do not fear now, but i realize that no amount of care or grace will prevent me from falling victim to that illusive black ice.

i was heading in the direction of SBM's house - actually, OUR house - driving on a road that i don't normally take at that hour. my seat-belt latched firmly across my trunk, colin meloy crooning on the stereo. 35mph speed limit, wet road, i slowed to a conservative 20mph, proceeded into an unforgiving curve in the road, entered a ferocious spin. the steering wheel jerked out of my control and my driving foot slammed the brake pedal hard and fast. i spun around once, twice, my passenger side slammed into a tree, i was thrown back, around, and sideways into a ditch. i could see again. the world stopped it's chaotic assailing spin. i put the car in park and switched on the emergency blinkers, i silenced colin. i opened the driver's side door and found that i would have to wedge myself out of the car. immediately, i was met the obnoxious smell of burning rubber. a quick survey found that my bumper was thrown from the car, my passenger-side headlight was decimated and that quarter-panel crumpled. the hood was in a bit of disarray and my tank of windshield-washing fluid looked as if it had been mauled by a can opener. six people stopped and offered assistance: a phone, a ride, a drink. i graciously decline and called SBM, no answer on either line.

i called my mother: "mom, i just got into an accident, i can't drive the car, i am ok, no need for a doctor, do you think it best to call the police or just put a call into the insurance blood suckers?"

mum: "oh shit. are you sure you're ok?"

me: "yes, i'm fine."

the decision to call the police was no longer mine, as a cruiser arrived on the scene. it is an auto-response to become nervous around police for me, i do not know why. they make my paranoia get up and dance. the officer exited his vehicle and approached me. i saw only his silhouette against the too-bright headlights and flashing red and blues; it was a scene from close encounters. i talked him through what happened, emphasizing my speed and latched seat-belt. as he walked up the hill, following my tire marks, i tried calling SBM again. he answered and was greeted by: "hey, killah, i was in an accident. i'm ok, but i can't drive my car. could you please come and pick me up?"

the officer joined me by my wreckage. he asked me to walk over to the tree that i hit. i showed him what i believed the point of impact to be, we both noted the 10-foot drop just beyond the tree.

he said: "do you have any idea how lucky you are? if you had been going any faster, this tree would not have held."

me: "yes, sir. i am just thankful that i did not hit anyone else. i am especially grateful that i was not traveling any faster, otherwise i would ran right off the road, down 20 feet on the other side of the road and into the creek."

the officer stated that the accident was obviously caused by road conditions... as he had lost his footing several times just walking up the hill where i had spun. four other cruisers stopped by, a fifth stayed and i sat in the back. i was given a copy of the preliminary police report and escorted back to the car that my officer was in. the other officers put a call into the state due to the conditions of the road that i crashed on and several others in the area. in fact, as i was sitting in the first vehicle, three other calls came in about crashes. flares were placed at the top of the hill where i entered my spin as a warning to other motorists.

stu arrived on the scene moments after a tow truck mounted my car. we drove back to our house, he mixed a strong vodka-and-whatever drink, and i proceeded to deliver the details. he was amazed. "you should be dead"

i am too damn stubborn to die. and really, only the good die young... i will be around for quite some time.
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midday [20 Feb 2007|09:19am]
this morning, as i was sitting in ridiculously unexpected traffic on the turnpike, i was listening to Member Supported Radio. the first two strums of the bass struck me. this lead into a very lazy guitar and piano. a salty voice started talking about strolling in the park. a lackadaisical horn danced with me as i swayed to the music at the helm of my car. the song tasted of spring, images of flowers and salt-water breeze dripped from my teeth. i smiled, thinking of rolling up my pants and walking along the hyaline of the most local ocean with stu... or not... i just need the beach. the song ended and Micheala Majoun informed me that this was "midday" by cat stevens.

thank you, yusuf, you just lifted me from my funk. spring is almost here, and i can make it through.
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valentine [14 Feb 2007|12:46pm]
i'm an engine driver
on a long run, on a long run
would I work beside her
she's a long one, such a long one

and if you don't love me let me go
and if you don't love me let me go

i'm a country lineman
on a high line, on a high line
so will be my grandson
there are powerlines in our bloodlines

and if you don't love me let me go
and if you don't love me let me go

and i am a writer, writer of fictions
i am the heart that you call home
and I've written pages upon pages
trying to rid you from my bones
my bones
my bones

i'm a money lender
i have fortunes upon fortunes
take my hand for tender
i am tortured, ever tortured

and if you don't love me let me go
and if you don't love me let me go

and i am a writer, writer of fictions
i am the heart that you call home
and i've written pages upon pages
trying to rid you from my bones
i am a writer, i am all that you have home
home
and i've written pages upon pages
trying to rid you from my bones
my bones
my bones

(and if you don't love me let me go)
and if you don't love me let me go
(and if you don't love me let me go)
and if you don't love me let me go


"engine driver" - the decemberists
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backdrifts [01 Dec 2006|10:55pm]
i have a birthday on sunday. on sunday morning at 7:02, i will have completed 23 rotations around the sun in virtually the same location that i was born. lately, the only thing that has gotten me out of bed in the morning, is remembering that even though my life feels stagnate, i am standing on a planet that flings itself around a fireball. regardless of my feelings on the subject, i am on the move. this is strangely comforting.

in the last year, i have been pretty down on myself, on life in general. the onset of this birthday has made me realize that this year in particular has been pretty good. a few minor meltdowns, a handful of dips into depression and a couple of incidents that left me sleepless and with hives. on the pro-side, i have been with my current job for more than 12 months. i have received a promotion and a raise in wages. i have taken myself back to school, i am forming a path to follow. i am in a relationship with a person *who drives me insane* who i am proud to speak of, who i respect and admire, who i flagrantly wish to spend the rest of my life with. my mother and i have a relationship that has defied all odds. i have a family that would live and die for me; i have a history, i have left a mark on this planet.

the holidays, also tend to make me very nostalgic... thanksgiving, especially.

my thanksgiving was spent with SBM, mumgrahame and her husband, and her long-time friends. it was a lovely dinner, complete with a mashedpotatoesmishap. the ladies and i were in the kitchen when i confided some of baubles i had already purchased for SBM.

i exclaimed, "it's $280 at compusa, i picked it up elsewhere for $163!"
mumgrahame to friend, "this is why i love her! she's a smart shopper, just like me. who could ask for a better daughter-in-law?"

shortly after this exchange we all parted ways, and SBM and i found ourselves in his living room skimming through the black friday sales fliers. we called popgrahame down in north carolina *he's visiting with his brother-in-law* to wish them a happy thanksgiving. i talked with the brother-in-law for the first time.

me: "oh, it's so nice to talk to you."
he: "yes. i've heard a lot about you."
me: "all good things, i hope."
he: "well, we're not all saints."

apparently, i have been indoctrinated into their club. apparently, i am well-liked in that circle.

SBM and i took to the road, to see what there was to see at our local compusa. we ended up camping outside the store overnight. yes, i did just say that. i will spare the details as to why... but we armed ourselves with blankets, booze and mince pies. we had a grand ol' time with the small group of people that formed a line behind us. there was a lengthy discussion on the atrocity that is paris h1lton, a divideandconquer plan divised for all the goodies that went on sale at 5am, and many laughs were had by all.

also, it turns out that the very same securityguy who fired me from my job as customer service lead *at a different location of the same store* was the very same guy who was posted at the main entrance when i started the line for the 5am sale.

after 7 hours of sitting in front of the store, the new shift of employees prepared for opening the doors. the line stood 150 people deep. SBM held my hand. i thanked him for hanging with me all night, even though i did tell him to leave several times. he said...

"i am honored to be here with you. i am proud to be with you; you're the first person that i've been proud to be with in a very long time."

the doors opened, and i made my way to the external hard drives that were on sale. scouring the shelves for the discounted items was a daunting tasks, what with other customers attempting to bully past me. i spotted the sale item, lunged, grabbed two of them and quickly read the SKU# to SBM to verify. a man put his hand on the box in my hands.

he: "what is the SKU#?"
me: "remove your hands from my hard drive."
he: *his other hand now on the box* "what is the SKU? let me see!"
me: "GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME"
he: *put a hand on my arm* "you have all of them, that's not fair"
me: *yanked my arm away* "if you touch me again, i will break you."
he: *let go* "i don't like your attitude."

i could have had him arrested for simple assault.

eventually, i made it to the register with my purchases. it turned out that they were having difficulty with the registers: the rebates associated with some of the sale items were not ringing up. so, they sold my items to me at the direct sale price *no rebates required*.

*ahem* according to erebates, i am still eligible to receive the $200. if i actually receive the check... my irish will get up and dance.
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sit down, stand up [01 Dec 2006|06:15am]
today is the very first day that i have ever called out sick. 3 sick days and 1 vacation day are left in my arsenal; to be used by the end of the year. i left a voice mail for my new manager and another for the HR manager.

oh, the decadence of the day.

i will be going to sleep shortly, as i have been awake for 26 hours now. mum and i have plans to do a bit of christmas shopping and hang out a bit since sunday is my birthday.
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and now? [20 Nov 2006|01:46pm]
just can't seem to get a handle on all of this.

can't put words together, or 2 + 2.
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a victory [20 Oct 2006|01:54pm]
there has been a war between the copier/scanner/printer and myself since early tuesday morning. this afternoon, i defeated the beast and officially designated it as my bitch.

i was aware that the beast had the capability to scan a document, convert it to .pdf format and send it to a shared folder on a network drive. i knew that the possibility existed, that this feat could be accomplished. on tuesday morning, i had a deadline to meet. it was required of me to send a document in .pdf format within an e-mail.

that first battle on tuesday morning was a 3-hour hullabaloo. i did get the .pdf file, i did meet the deadline, but i barely made it out alive. the copier/scanner/printer beast and i both emerged with scrapes and bruises. were it not for the ever-stoic mr.ITguy *he who "does not know"*, the battle may have dragged on even longer.

this afternoon was the final face-off between the beast and i. i was able to scan my document into the network folder in less than 1 minute. there was no cursing at the machine or punching of the face screen. and unlike tuesday morning, when smack-talk was being thrown about willy-nilly and idle threats hung in the air, my only words were, "BOW YOUR HEAD, SUBMIT TO MY WILL" in my special evil*dead*charred voice that i have such a talent for. the beast now lives in fear of my wrath, waiting for it's slice of DOOM-cheesecake with pumpkin spice.

VICTORY IS MINE
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