that which is my annoyance

to the root

2007-07-16T19:00:29Z

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?

emmowyn @ 2007-06-21T15:47:00

2007-06-21T19:49:53Z

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.

breathe in

2007-06-16T03:36:59Z

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.

mumbling in the dark

2007-04-03T15:52:45Z

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.

mo' money

2007-02-28T17:40:46Z

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

spin and spun

2007-02-23T04:05:18Z

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.

and now?

2006-11-20T17:46:02Z

just can't seem to get a handle on all of this.

can't put words together, or 2 + 2.

a victory

2006-10-20T18:12:52Z

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

emmowyn @ 2006-10-20T13:38:00

2006-10-20T13:59:35Z

i am courting my new laptop. she has been charged up full, and is lying in wait to be fondled and manipulated. the anticipation is almost too much. my first reaction was that of a young, sexually-charged boy with a willing young girl: tear off the packaging, charge it up and boot, baby, boot.

on saturday evening, i gently un-stuck a small strip of security tape, unfolded the flaps to the cow-spotted box and gazed upon the packed-perfection that is my new baby. i gently pulled her from the swaddles of plastic and styrofoam, ran my dish-pan hands over her sleek substance while admiring her gentle curves. i placed her on the freshly-polished coffee table and ceremoniously dipped back into the box. upon retrieving the power cord and wrapped battery, i began liturgical assembly of parts and finally gave her battery a long drink of electricity.

she sat, unmoved for 4 days. wednesday night, i unplugged her, vowing to bring her into work and have wildly interesting conversations. a first date, if you will.

thursday morning found my love affair perched on my desk, rubbing gently against the soft underside of my arm. still, i could not find the emotion, the energy, to boot her up. i wanted to make it special. i had envisioned candles and pillows, satin robes and mousing surfaces, a glass of port and humming battery-energy, my whispered sweet-everythings and her purring hard-drive.

so another 24 hours have found me staring longingly at my new paramour. my first laptop, a step towards freedom and a new outlet for creativity. my heart aches at the possibilities that grow with every turn of my thoughts.

i am poised over the power-button.

endless festoons

2006-10-18T18:07:52Z

in the last 18 months, over a dozen people who watched me grow up, have passed away. the one exception to the latter part of that statement, is my dearly departed friend, Doc. he passed in february last year, 84 years old, barely one year after his wife of 64 years left us. losing Doc was difficult. he was an amazing man who had lived a remarkable life. he and his wife had opened their home to over 250 orphans, adopted and raised over 30 of them. his funeral had over 600 people in attendance.

Doc is the one person of that dozen that did not know me from my birth.

a detail that most people don't seem to understand, is that i was raised by the elder generation of my town. i never had a babysitter. such a person was not necessary, since everyone knew my schedule, and if i did not walk by their porch at a certain time, they would call my grandmother *or my aunt/uncle after gramma passed* to let them know that i was late. a few more phone calls would reveal that i was talking with the CrossingGuard or mr.boohaha. the town that i loved in my youth, despised in my teens and currently could not exist without, has kept a watchful eye over me for almost the entirety of my life.

that collective of people has met their end, these people that acted as caregivers, parents by proxy. admittedly, i did not know them well, i could not tell you their life history. my memory fails me in the recollection of their endless stories. but i do remember their porches, the chairs that sat upon them, the cushions for said chairs... and most importantly, i remember the smiles and laughter of these people.

i may not have known them very well, but they all knew me. even after i stopped walking my usual route, word passed around that i was old enough to stay home *at my mother's house* alone. in middle school and high school, i held 2 jobs simultaneously and the grapevine had officiated that i was one hardworking girl. me, not taking a job at the mall, had to follow in the footsteps of my uncles. they being family, forced me to work harder, faster and longer than would be expected of anyone. all the bingo ladies tell me what a good worker i am, whenever they see me. they puff on their cigarettes and tell me that i should be grateful for the good people that have raised me; i have turned out to be respectable. after my junior and senior proms, the grapevine said that i looked lovely. when i started going to a technical school, they examined my business professional outfits and commended me for forsaking pink hair and combat boots. when i picked up and left town, they were saddened, asked after me weekly and demanded that i come back to bingo now. when i did move back into town 8 months later, the grapevine shook and said, "it's about time, you're looking good, i need you to move this table and get me some ice water." now 3 years later, that grapevine is just about fallow. the bingo group is thinning out, familiar denture-smiles are leaving, slowly.

that generation of my family is just about gone. the last of my grandfather's brothers passed on september 16th. my aunt called me just and stu was purchasing our tickets to the drive-in, with mr.mechanic and his pregnant wife, close behind in their vehicle. i did not know him well, i was not overwhelmingly saddened by his death; my sadness lies in the realization that the remainder of my life will not be spent with those i love, it will consist of laying flowers over headstones. the only survivor of that generation is the wife of the man who died on september 16th.

after my grandmother passed away in 1992, my grandfather and great-aunt *her sister* were devastated. her children, my mum, aunts and uncles experienced a grief of unspeakable magnitude. she was buried in the cemetery right next to noah's then-workplace. my other uncle, the second oldest of 7, has visited her grave once a month *at minimum* tending to the flowers that he has planted and to carefully clip away stray blades of grass. my grandfather is buried next to his late wife, and my uncle has cared for his plot as well, replacing the armed forced memorabilia when it has become worn and tattered. my great-aunt was buried in a different cemetery next to her mother and other sisters. my uncle also tends to the graves of friends that he has lost over his life time.

this reverence paid by my uncle is something that i feel quite deeply; my respects are paid through daily thoughts to my grandparents and great aunt.

to add to the overwhelming sense of loss that i feel, last night, i was informed that another dear friend has been diagnosed with a serious anterior valve defect (?). i am unclear what the official defect is, but i am sure that it is the very same defect that claimed the life of the great love of my deceased aunt margie. this friend is being placed on medication and is under strict instruction to not do anything to stress or excite his heart. doctors have scheduled surgery for 6 months from now, hoping that the medication will control the workings of his heart. they have high hopes because he has responded well to medication in the past. he has survived a bypass surgery *5 years ago* and lived a full life of 82 years. he and his wife have a relationship that i can hope to only attain a shadow of, one day. this man has acted in a fatherly capacity to me, with the passing of my grandfather and the absence of my own father, so when he goes, it will be another devastation.

more bad news: the catering hall, camelsnot, that has stolen 9 years of my life, 14 years of noah's, and 20 years of my other uncle *he who tends the graves* is officially closing its doors as of january 1, 2007. noah wants desperately to receive disability, due to his plethora of legitimate medical maladies, and my other uncle... well, i don't know what he's going to do. he asked me to put together a resume for him and search the area for jobs that are akin to what he has done for camelsnot.

oh.my.god.

stu joined me for dinner while i was still on the phone with noah, keening quietly into my pajamas. when i relayed to stu the events of the last 2 full paragraphs, he said, "that's a lot of bad news for one phone call."

why, yes, yes it is.

i started to tell him that i feel a sorrowful desperation in the loss of this generation. worse yet, the upcoming loss of my aunts and uncles... my own mother. none of them are healthy, all of them are overworked and stressed to capacity. it has been noted that the most any of them can hope for, is another decade.

stu's response: "that's part of life."

this, coming from a man who has attended 4 funerals in his life. all but 1, was for people that he didn't really know, only attending for the support of a friend *the latest of which, i was not told about*. he did lose an aunt last summer. he did cry. he did help to scatter her ashes in Loch Lomond on our Scotland trip. he has no idea what it's like to lose someone that is intertwined in your life. he cannot fathom the connections that i have with the people that i have lost over the course of my life. stu has attended a multitude of weddings; i equal or exceed that count in my attendance of funerals for people that i have loved and lost.

and i am going to go through it again tomorrow morning. housed in the church that saw me through sacraments of a faith that i do not carry, the very same church that saw the sacraments of my aunts and uncles, that saw the funeral services of every loved one that i have lost.

and of course, the luncheon will be held at camelsnot. due to this, my uncles will not be able to attend aunt jane's funeral... because they will be too busy working. i cannot tell you how many other funerals of relatives and ents of mysmalltown have been forgone because the respective luncheon was being held at camelsnot.

and stu seems baffled by my feelings on the subject.

i am baffled by this ongoing cycle of death, and how i have managed to isolate myself from acquiring new friends. amazing.

another bouquet

2006-10-16T22:02:10Z

my aunt jane passed away on saturday morning; this happening not 2 months after she broke her hip and was forced by doctors into the care of a nursing facility. this after she lost her husband *my uncle john* not 2 years before. this after having lived on her own or taking care of someone for the last 60 years.

i spent much of my youth on the porch of my aunt jane and uncle john; listening to stories of the old days, waving at passers-by and being playfully tormented by uncle john and his cane. after having gotten older and a job or 2, i had no time to wistfully chat my afternoons away. how silly of me.

one day, when being walked to my mother's house by ghost at my feet, we happened across my aunt jane and uncle john sitting on their porch, rocking away the afternoon. they invited us to sit with them, and we did. Ghost talked about his days in nicaragua, uncle john about his days in the pacific islands. aunt jane brought us warm cookies and milk. it was when we said our goodbyes and Ghost talked of how much he enjoyed the conversation, that he made a promise to uncle john on my behalf.

ghostatmyfeet had commissioned me to go back and listen to all of the old stories and create a book of it.

i never went back. too scared by the overwhelming possibility of failure on my part and disappointment on theirs... i was too afraid to go back.

it was heart wrenching when uncle john passed, but what am i to do with this?

so it goes

2006-10-10T15:03:15Z

i find myself in the comfort of my cubical. the square-life is not something that i ever really thought myself adept to, but here i am.

last week was spent training on 2 instances of "our" software. mr.controller had met with a few different candidates for the receptionist position, finally settling on one. her name is something akin to a creek, as i will thusly refer to her. Creek is a very capable, competent and sharp young woman. she is 26 years old, blonde, and her biggest problem is that she is too skinny *by her own affirmation* for her height. if only i had such a problem. i spent almost the entirety of yesterday, sitting next to her at my old desk, talking and getting to know her while training her in the fine art of avoiding boredom awaiting a shrill ring. so far, i have enjoyed her company.

last wednesday marked the second week that i did not attend yoga. this occurrence threatens to throw me into a spiral, as if my general level of stress isn't enough. although i do keep telling myself that i will go back and in the mean time, i will practice my postures on my own. in any case, missing yoga has not resulted in my demise,painful or otherwise. i chose to spend that wednesday with the scrumptious bearded man/hero for the season premier of LOST. we are addicted to the show. we used his sexy new projector and the experience was something akin to going to the drive-in. the evening was completed by eating delectables from our favorite chinese restaurant. oh, dumplings and special sauce, how i love you so. SBM also put a bit of time into the attic, while i prepared his lunches for the coming days and snacks for myself.

i have become domesticated.

thursday morning, i found myself sweating and frowning on the stair-climber at the gym. disgruntled and disillusioned, i wondered why i torture myself when the physical results are so limited. of course, if i actually went on a diet... still frowning, i showered, dressed and readied myself for an aggressive drive on the highway. sitting at a traffic light sunglass-clad, left-turn signal blinking, listening to local radio personalities reciting daily strange news stories, window rolled down... i reveled in a chill breeze. an old land yacht lolled to a stop, ending up several tire rotations ahead of me. strangely, the car began to roll backwards, the passenger-side window was already down. the driver shouted over his passenger to me. i turned my radio off, stuck my head out a bit farther, "huh?".
the driver leaned a bit closer, "would you go out on a date with my friend?" he said, pointing the passenger.
me: *smiling* "i have a boyfriend"
driver: "aww, c'mon. go out with him."
me: "do you always troll for women at the mall at this hour?"
driver: "you're sharp. i like that, i know my friend does too. y'all should hang out."
me: "i have a boyfriend. i'm sorry." looking at the passenger "you're attractive, i would go with you, but i'm with someone already."
cute passenger: *smiled, laughed and wished the bench seat would swallow him alive*
driver: "go out on a date with him! i'll pay! my dime!"
me: "i have a boyfriend!"

the light turned green, i peeled off. they tried to race down the highway. *ahem* i won. when i came up to my turn, i signaled and gave them a wave.

i think that was the best thursday morning i've ever woken up to.

another ailment

2006-09-26T15:15:55Z

in the last 2 weeks, i have woken up in the morning to find areas of my body afflicted with blotchy spots and itchiness. until last night, i believed the spots to be spider or mosquito bites; the beasts having been motivated by the sudden climate changes.

last night, having pleasantly surprised the other beast in my life, i noticed that not 10 minutes after settling onto the carpet in the living room, what seemed like spider bites emerged on my stomach and back. 6 in all; in addition to the dozen or more that have cropped up in the last 2 weeks.

i donned long-sleeved pajamas and settled in again, after having taken inventory of my afflictions. not other splotches were counted this morning.

in response to my threats of calling Terminex *NOW*, The Beastly Human suggested that i might be experiencing a breakout of hives. at first, i was totally opposed to the idea, having already succumbed to the notion that i am nothing but a spider-treat.

to quash the hypothesis, i googled the symptoms of hives and checked out the image gallery. apparently i have a mild case, possibly caused by the following:

* stress
* ungodly amounts of dairy *macaroni and cheese, bottomless milkshake, ice cream, cheesecake, sour cream...*
* pet dander
* fiber glass and saw dust particles
* recent change in medication *steroids and antibiotics for the wisdom tooth debacle*
...all of these things combined with any sort of hormonal change...

just what i need, another ailment.

and i was planning on giving up this new diet that i have acquired *that which is laden with carbohydrates, sugar and dairy* any way... i just wanted one last milkshake. just one more hit!

luckily, there are only a few splotches which are hidden by my clothes. my face is more ruddy than usual; my complexion is suffering from assailing acne, burning dryness and savagely oily patches.

[11:00am]
all that being said, mr.controller is currently interviewing a very cute, very young and very timorous young lady to replace me. she had great difficulty opening the door; i think that this should be a prerequisite for anyone associating themselves with the company. "if you cannot figure out how to open the doors to the building, please just go away." i am under the impression that they have lined up several interviews for this position... i wonder who the new girl is going to be?

further on in the direction in question

2006-09-25T21:02:42Z

the operations manager is composing a letter of offering that entails the
following:

* the official job offer
* 10% raise
* once moved from the receptionist position, there is no going back
* 6 month review, with a raise *usually another 10%-15%*
* monthly meetings with trainer and operations manager to "discuss my progress"
* responsible for training the new receptionist, and coverage of the reception
area during his/her breaks and absences.

this is the news of the week. wage and title changes go into effect 10/01/06,
and my training will commence on monday.

mr.controller already has interviews set-up for my current position; the first one is tomorrow morning at 11am.

regardless of how all of this turns out, i do believe this is cause for celebration. let the libations begin!

onward and upward

2006-09-14T21:25:55Z

off to forensic accounting, i go.

have i mentioned that i know what i want to be when i grow up?
yes.
an IRS special agent, specializing in criminal investigation.

6 months of training. in georgia.

did i mention, that they give you a badge and a gun?

well then.

oh yeah, and a t-shirt.

sign me up!

anticipation

2006-09-14T16:31:06Z

the hot seat that i was supposed to be sitting in today, has been rescheduled for tomorrow morning at 10am. veritably, i am not looking forward to this. what am i to wear, on a friday, when i normally wear jeans and a t-shirt?

in other news, noah is not speaking to me. why? i am not sure. we spoke briefly on tuesday about cable boxes and computers... the 15 minute detour that i spent with him, cost me over an hour in my drive to stu's. has no one an appreciation for this? noah, who doses with vicodan just get out of bed in the morning *or afternoon depending upon work schedules* had been so tired and almost sloshed from the narcotic, that conversation was difficult. to see his head lull about and his eyes at half-mast, equally trigger anger and pity in me. i don't know how to help him or even what to say sometimes.

of course, it's always easier for an outsider to judge... noah's existence and the lives of the rest of my family are nothing that i would wish to trade for. they are each so wrapped up in the comedy of errors that is their existence, that there is no room, it seems, for improvement. for every "why don't you do this," there is a weighty criticism and roadblocked reason why they cannot implement the suggestion. very much like myself, noah becomes extremely agitated when someone tells him that he should be grateful to be alive. he answers with the very same indignation that i do, "this is a life that i should be grateful for?". it is at this point, that he begins to list his ailments and back-breaking responsibilities to ungrateful family and employers. i have been so deeply embroiled in my family and it's intricate workings, that i did not understand their quiet misery; now after having spent time in "the outside", i have come to realize that there is more to life than what they have.

they have all told me that it is their only hope for me, that i can rise above whatever station i have been born into. this "station" not being indicative of social class or monetary gains, but of general quality of life... they want me to be happy, because none of them have experienced it.

this is a weight on me; a heavy weight pierced through my figurative skin. i carry it with me wherever i go; it swings like a pendulum thus swaying my decisions. i have always envied people who just cut ties and boldly move ahead with their lives. my fear of this implementation is centered around my deep-rooted gratitude for all that they have done for me... for loving me unconditionally, more than anything else.

for even though i believe that stu cares for me... does he really love me? the kind of love that is unbreakable, unfathomable and most immense? that love which is embodied by more than my strengths and positive attributes, but also deepened by my faults, idiosynchrasies and flaws.

as for noah, he who i believe to be my soul mate, he who can read my thoughts and know my words before they have been spoken. he who has picked me up from the lowest and darkest places. he who actually believes that there has never been anyone like me, and never will be again. he who will love me regardless of what transpires in this life or any other. he who believes that i am the only one who will miss him when he dies. i would sacrifice my soul and well-being for him... this is the one person in the world who could truly benefit from my help, and i have no idea what i can do for him.

if i had the means, i would have him live with me. no strings attached. in an alternate reality, i am running a business, and he works for me. he lives with me. he is happy and comfortable. i get to yell at insurance companies when they threaten to drop his coverage or stop paying his medical bills. in that reality, i have some clout and i use it to his benefit.

in this reality, however, i have no means by which to assist him or anyone else, really. here, i am stuck with a silly job, a laughable paycheck, a laughable set of skills, fears that are almost insurmountable, a man who cannot commit to me *or i cannot commit to him; at this point, who knows?*... oh yes, and this joke of a body.

[note: i say "joke" because i come from a genetic cesspool, which includes more maladies that i can list. i am 22 years old, i am grateful that i still have the ability to walk and talk at the same time, that i don't have to wear glasses, and i have not started falling apart... yet.]

i believe that this is the universe reminding me that i cannot save the world and i cannot save an individual. it is out of my bounds to force anything on another human being, even if my intentions are golden. the laissez-faire approach is best, hands off and judgements away.

stiff upper lip, yes?

finger on the pulse

2006-09-13T20:12:46Z

My Personality


Neuroticism	91
Extraversion	20
Openness To Experience	99
Agreeableness	62
Conscientiousness	61

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i just don't know what to do with myself, still

2006-09-11T21:31:19Z

sunday morning, found me waking up to our hero playing videogames and cursing loudly, coming to bed at 6:01am. later sunday morning, found me watching Beaches on AMC, and crying. edging towards towards noon on sunday, found me on my knees in stu's yard, digging holes and fighting with buried rocks. i was planting daffodil bulbs. this venture into green-thumb territory mutated into a 4 hour battle of the elements. stu warned me of the rocks in his garden, i underestimated the enemy. the enemy bent my spade, and as i have discovered today, has left me in a sore and sorry state. in any case, i planted 25 bulbs around hedges and a tree. i am very much looking forward to the spring, and seeing green sprigs of life poke through dark winter soil.

at 3:15pm, when i was scrubbing my hands clean in the sink, stu had just been brushing his teeth and stumbling to the kitchen, hung over on high-speed frame rates and tweaked CPU's. he sat in the living room, eating leftover pizza for breakfast, when his cell phone rang. when he did not answer it, the landline rang. the impudent caller was none other than femaleicannotstand. she was having computer troubles that demanded stu's attention NOW. i was not privvy to the conversation, and whatever i overheard was purely incidental... but i do not believe that she even asked him how life was treating him. her computer troubles/car troubles/movie concerns are more important. apparently.

i laid down for a 20 minute cat-nap. when i awoke, there was a sea green neon parked next to my car, with 2 blondes sitting in it. stu asked me if i knew who these people were. no. they saw me peeking out the kitchen door, when they exited their car and started towards the house. stu escaped to change out of his robe, and i was left dealing with these strangers.

these strangers turned out to be old party-hounds from waybackwhen. they kept commenting about how quiet the house is... i felt the urge to explain that stu's house had been "quiet" before i was ever on the scene. stu stayed on the phone with femaleicannotstand for another 15 minutes, while i listened to the 2 girls tell me about the more intimate details of their lives.

eventually stu graced us with his presence, offering hugs to the women. one girl recieved a short squeeze and the other got a full-on hug, complete a stroking of her back. they only chatted with us for about 20 minutes, when they left, stu seemed somewhat relieved. he explained to me that they randomly show up every 3 years or so looking for a party.

well then.

after they left, stu told me that because femaleicannotstand might be in the area later, and because she wanted to see a movie, that we were invited along. how charitable she is with her time. i agreed to go... i'll spare any suspense: we ended up not going. she did not call as she promised, and when i asked stu if he was going to call her, he said, "i am not going out of my way for her".

well then.

it was at this juncture, that everything fell apart. we fell into an argument, i fell into emotional turmoil, he screamed at me for telling him that "the only reason asked me to move in with was because Dfromthesouth brought it up."... he screamed and lost his cool because he hates that i hold that against him. he says that the only reason why he didn't ask me to move in with him is because i had said that i wanted a place of my own. i had said this as a passing comment many months before any of this moving-in talk began.

stu feels that our relationship has stagnated from that point forward, and i agree. however i don't believe that this moving-in talk is the singular cause of what has/not transpired. i maintain that our general lack of time is also a culprit.

it was also pointed out to me, that i have been dragging my feet. i, of course, adamently refused to accept that as being in any way, shape or form, truth. upon reflection and introspection, i have realized that, yes, i am too fucking scared for my own good.

i have been a detriment to my happiness. i have allowed my fears to not only rule my decision-making process, but to cloud my judgement.

there is more, but i cannot go on now, nor can i even run spell check or edit the grammatic consistency of my sentences. for all of this and so much more, i apologize, again.

i just don't know what to do with myself

2006-09-11T16:47:23Z

there is rumble of unfathomable proportions thundering in my stomach. this, a deadly combination of stress, anxiety and jaw-dropping confusion.

currently, i am waiting for the mr.vicepresident to call on me, put the spotlight on me and tell me what a bad girl i have been for not wishing to complete that silly project. again, i implore you, please fire me.

the weekend was a total mess. i am a total mess

friday night was spent at compusa, straightening out rebates, returns and the like. thusly followed by burger king whoppers and wendy's frosties.

[12:12pm]
stu just called me, and we had a 5 minute lunch-time conversation. thank you so much for calling, stu-bear, you just made my day. besides the emotional turmoil that we are currently experiencing, i am so anxious about my meeting with mr.vicepresident, that i almost burst into tears while telling stu "i'm nervous".

saturday morning was kicked off my post-operative visit with my oral surgeon. he was quite impressed with how quickly i have healed and the general state of my "sockets". well, thanks, doc.

returned to stu's as he was commencing his hygiene regimen and we chit-chatted about things in general. mum arrived at 11:00am, finished lacing me up in a corset, eventually, the 3 of us were on our way... to a "local" celtic festival. on the way, we stopped at stu's landlord's house to drop-off rent and talk about house repairs. this was a 45 minute detour; i met the landlord's wife for the first time, and she thought my pinstipe corset and fishnet skirt was fabulous. this coming from a 75 year-old woman is quite impressive.

the day at the fair stretched out much longer than i had wanted it to. i was hoping to leave shortly after the band that we came to see, ended. to put a time to it, i was hoping to leave before 4:30. mum also had aspirations of leaving early... and i do not have to words to describe just how much stu was hoping to leave at that time or earlier.

ran into an old friend at the fair. hi, electichead! it great to see you!

[12:25pm]
one of the ladies that i work with, just surprised me with 4 bags of candy. "you looked like you needed a pick-me-up, so i just wanted to let you know that someone's thinking of you."
thanks so much, you have no idea how much that helped.

and just as we were discussing our departure, mumgrahame called to tell us that they were just entering the fairgrounds. it was at this point, that i totally lost control of the situation. i was more interested in "placating" everyone, that i lost sight of the orginal goal. i will spare the details, as they are gory and lengthy... we ended up staying until 7:30, not getting back to stu's house until 8:15. we sat through another set of our 2 favored bands, while no one but mumgrahame enjoyed it.

this resulted in heated words between stu and i, and total silence during the drive back to his house. although we did end up attending Bike Night in histown. i stiffly walked around with my new scorching sunburn and stu eyeing the bikes, the crowd and events. all was made better with fabulous barbeque brisket and pulled pork. oh yes, and curly fries to accompany the earlier meal of fish & chips drenched in malt vinegar and encrusted with salt.

we stopped at the grocery store on the way back, for diet iced tea (of the local variety) and ben & jerry's ice cream.

he: Chunky Monkey
me: Dublin Mudslide *only because i cannot find Vermonty Python*

forensic accounting or bust

2006-09-07T16:05:00Z

this evening marks the start of classes, namely Forensic Accounting and Accounting II. now starting another semester of school learnin' makes my impossible journey seem not so amazingly improbable.

i recently discovered that there is an organization that populates a government Antarctic program. the program needs people, period. the base camps on the lonely continent are like small cities, thus needing every sort of job filled. highly educated scientists all the way down to janitors. i would totally be a janitor in Antarctica. i've happily cleaned toilets in this northern hemisphere, surely i would be giddy about scrubbing porcelain in the South Pole.

it seems even more improbable, this fantasy Antarctic adventure. what would i do after having "wintered over" in the South Pole? Thailand, maybe? walk the Songlines in Australia? then back to Antarctica for another season on the ice. simply fantasizing about jaunting around the world, working hear, moving over there, makes these days seem not so interminable.

room and board are free in exchange for your skills, plus they give you a salary based on skills and ice time. so, even as a lowly janitor making $15,000 a season... that's $15,000 in the bank. my mind reels at the possibilities. here i am, a receptionist and off-season tax return preparer, formerly janitor/screenprinter/dishwasher/waitress/
cook/notquiteITadministrator/geek/notbeautifulenoughtoSTRIPordoPORN, so Antarctica isn't looking so bad.

maybe this is just another half-baked fantasy gone awry, then again, maybe in 2 years time, i will be updating this journal from an Antarctic outpost.

in any case, i slept last night for the first time in 3 days ...not just because i was tired... i was so relaxed and sore from having attended yoga. when i arrived in a huff to the class, mr.yoga, was waiting for another class to end. he saw me, smiled at me and said, "you look tired."
me: "is it that obvious?"
he: "yes, quite. like this is the last place you want to be."
me: "quite the opposite, actually."
he: "how are things?"
me: "things are ok, could be better, could be worse, but i'm still here."
he: "you're alive and breathing, that should be reason enough to rejoice."

in class, we worked on postures called breath of joy and i swear to you, i felt high after some of those postures. amazing how stretching and breathing can invigorate not just the body, but the soul.

my not sleeping this week was the result of my usual depression and this feeling of being soulless, an empty ache in the chest that nags. feeling so physically and emotionally tired yesterday, brought on a familiar tingling sensation throughout my entire body.

insomnia not only worsens one's feeling spiraling towards the center of the earth, but it fogs our reality. taking in one's surroundings is a chore, as it is like watching your life on an ancient television: the picture is distorted around the edges, blurred, the colors are muted and off-put as the pinks have a green tinge, the sound is flat and low. having a conversation takes too much work, as i think more about the vicinity of the air around my teeth, than the words that my tongue should be pushing out.

after the breath of joy postures, i was able to adjust my focus. reality was no longer of the couch-potato variety, and the volume was turned back up. i could speak without worries of air-pillows in my mouth.

i could approach the crow position without total fear, only partial fear, thus being able to quiet my mind, focus and raise my feet from the ground. in the pigeon posture, i was able to completely give myself to the floor. and in downward-facing dog, i felt the strength of the pyramid. in corpse posture, i forgot about my body.

moving on and moving up, right?

management

2006-09-07T13:28:17Z

there is a permeating attitude in the corporate world, and that attitude is:

when a machine/computer does not do what it is designed to do, then the machine/computer is broken.

when you point out to the corporate droid/management, that one cannot shove sheets of paper into a fax machine and expect it to "go"... well, they don't like that.

corporatemanagement: "it must be broken."
me: "if you use that sort of paper, you have to feed it through one sheet at a time. otherwise, you have to make photocopies of the papers and then stack the papers in the machine."
corporatemanagemnt: "it should have been designed better."

i wanted to say: "you have how many degrees, and they pay you how much?"

that dang edgy attitude comes out once again.

***
my favorite corporatedroid story is... my first day on the job, and the woman who would forever be covering my lunches comes to the reception desk to allow me to go to lunch. i start walking away from my computer, when her eyes widened to saucer-size, "you didn't log off".
me: "i didn't know that i needed to."
she: "you have to log off!" her eyes still wide.
me: "why? is this some sort of security-thing?"
she: "i can't get to my internet from here."
me: "what?"
she: "my internet."
me: "you can get to the internet from here."
she: "can i?"
me: "just double-click on the 'e' icon."
she: *homepage opens* "it looks different, everything looks different."
me: "it's the same internet, i just have a different homepage, and i have a different desktop."
she: "oh."

and she is responsible for producing help-guides and documentation for this company's proprietary software.

god help us.

if nothing

2006-09-06T16:36:17Z

i did a piece of performance art for SBM's birthday. that is all i am going to say.

lounging in the living room, candles ablaze, i gifted SBM his birthday baubles. he seemed quite pleased with everything; he wanted me to return the sunglasses and put that money towards schoolcarbills. i, of course, refused. why? because that is what i do.

then we started talking. and we ended up having one of those conversations that results in each of us getting upset with one another, then crumbling into cuddles and telling each other that we really do care for one another. i am hoping that the tone of that sentence is something of exhaustion. exhaustion, because all weekend i felt good about our relationship... i put all specters out of mind and tried to focus on moving ahead/in with him. sitting with his parents at respective dinners, i was reminded that i am now part of their family. for better or worse, it seems. amazingly, they do not consider me a burden; neither does stu for that matter. however, i am of the opinion that i am burden to this planet. i breathe air, eat food and generally take up space that could be better utilized by someone else. then again, that's just my thinking.

there i go with my opinions again.

last night, i ventured onto the turnpike to shorten the drive from my work to his house. in the rain and damp, crampy and bloated, mouth swollen and generally unhappy. i arrived a few moments before he did. when he rolled in, we chatted and laughed, i told a hilarious story about a guy at my gym *who mis-stepped on the treadmill, which threw him 10 feet, but not before he flailed about and turned himself around 180 degrees. hilarious* eventually, i served dinner. he went back to do whateverhewasdoing and i took to reading in the living room. at 9:30, he joined me, and we started watching television. he asked me what was going on this weekend and i informed him of the celtic festival. i then went through the goingsons of the next few weeks, and suddenly, SBM transformed into mr.grump. mr.grump is the fabulously grumpy alter-ego of our dear SBM, he can suck all of the glee out of a household in a single exasperated sigh.
he: "there is all of this stuff to do around here, and all of my time is scheduled already."
me: "nothing is scheduled except the drive-in with mr.&mrs.mechanic."
he: *huff*
me: "stop it, you're annoying me. you gave all of your time away freely during the summer, in my opinion, to people who didn't deserve. in fact, you are still giving it away willy-nilly, except to the people that matter."

maybe i should have just said, "suck it up, bitch."

Happy Birthday, Stu-Bear

2006-09-01T17:59:04Z

today is SBM's birthday. i feel confident that since he never reads my blog, that i can list his birthday baubles:

* a moleskine squared notebook, pocket-sized with a love koan written on the first page.
* Punisher death-head floor mats for his vehicle
(he really wanted these, but couldn't find them anywhere. i, queen of the internet, found them and purchased them)
* Spotters Hurricane sunglasses. these are aviator-style sunglasses with lamb-skin sheaths on the sides. they are reminiscent of the old 1920's style sunglasses. the coolest thing about these glasses are the lens. the lens...
VCE™ enhanced Bronze Glass, the Penetrator delivers incredible detail and outstanding blue-light-blocking capabilities. Glare and haze simply vanish. Colors and edges are sharp and vivid. Try it on overcast and rainy days - you won't believe how much your vision improves. And, the Penetrator lens is photochromic - it adjusts from light to dark depending on the intensity of sunlight. That means that this one lens is suitable for all daylight conditions, dawn, dusk and mid-day
* phoenix pendant - it represents freedom, and i thought that he would appreciate the sentiment.

the sunglasses were quite expensive. almost twice as much as the sapphire necklace that he gifted me for my birthday. i should not have spent the money, since i am just about broke after having paid the medical whore-mongers; this is the only reason why i make mention of the monetary value.

there is much hullabaloo surrounds SBM's birthday. mainly because he is too aloof to even appreciate that it is his special day until someone such as myself, mumgrahame or popgrahame start clamoring. they each want to take him to dinner; i did too, but 3 dinners out in one weekend is a bit much.

mumgrahame called on sunday evening, asking after his plans for this sunday. he rolled his eyes and grew annoyed with his mother requesting his attention to plans. he thrust the phone to me, demanding of me to create his schedule for him.

*ahem* do you see a ring on this finger? wifely duties are reserved for wives.

i acquiesced, and promised his mother that i would call her by wednesday with a plan of action. we commiserated about the men in our lives and their complete inability to handle stress.

there was an issue with this weekend because SBM wanted to attend the drive-in movies with mr.mechanic and his wife. there was a possibility that those plans might have fallen on this, his birthday, weekend. so i called mrs.mechanic on wednesday and suggested that we make a go at the drive-in.

the drive-in event is now scheduled for saturday, september 16. i then called mumgrahame and informed her that stu is available for dinner this sunday, now scheduled for 5:00 but getting together at 3:30. directly after that phone call, i contacted popgrahame and scheduled dinner for 5:00 on monday. popgrahame thanked me for the goodies that i bestowed upon him last month *assorted varieties of chutney and cheese* and asked for more of a certain chutney "in a larger container if they have it, and don't worry about the cost, love, it's my money your spending" in his british accent.

stu is grumpy because his time is all parsed out. and yet, he doesn't get grumpy when femaleicannotstand demands that he fix a car, straighten out its title and registration issues, store it for 3 years... oh yes, and tow it when it can no longer sit in his driveway to popgrahame's house. that is no problem, but letting his parents buy him dinner, bring him gifts and tell him that they love him... well, he just cannot have any of that.

all of my love

2006-08-18T21:13:54Z

last weekend was the first weekend that SBM and i have been apart for social reasons. there were weekends when he was away, working a computer show, and depending on the location, i would drive out to see him. in the very least, he would call me. however, the last show that he worked without me was over a year and a half ago.

the first time that he told me that he missed me, was 6 months into our relationship. he was working a HAM Fest in maryland, and i was still working at the crazyalternativelifestyle company. since he was not going to be around that weekend, i chose to work overtime and a shift at the banquet hall. i was sitting in my kitchen, at "my chair" *as my grandmother had designated 20 years earlier*, noah was doing dishes. SBM had called me with a borrowed cell phone. he described that he was sitting in the Cow Palace, on a large set of bleachers. it was here that he told me that he missed me; beaming and elated, i returned the sentiment.

at 6 months, most couples are way past that point. maybe we are stunted.

in any case, it was approximately 6 months after that, when i saw the Cow Palace with my own 2 eyes. it has a sign and everything! and yes, the computer show that i worked that weekend was yet another HAM Fest. later, i had the glorious experience of working the international HAMVENTION in ohio.

oh, what a life i have lived.

on monday night, i saw stu. i supplied him with a short reprisal of my weekend trip, but spared most of the details... i believe that he may still be reeling from the fact that i did not draw out the story into a 7 hour-telling, as i am generally wont to do. i also graced him with my ignored presence on tuesday night. i say "ignored" because he has been quite the frustrated busy bee, in attempting to resurrect a jurassic computer for a co-worker.

this computer is quite the stubborn circuitry. after waiting for 45 minutes to actually eat the dinner that i prepared, he joined me, grudgingly ate his meal, cuddled for 5 minutes *so i could absorb some of his negative energy*. he then went back to the frustration-box, commenced to voracious spewing of profanities and he would flop down next to me, burying his head between my arm and chest. i stroked his hair and ran my hands along his arm and spine. i performed a quick bit of Reiki on him *shhh!* and he was back to his labored cursing in no time.

although we spent a bit of time together this week, these last few moments of the day remind me of our first summer together, when i could barely contain myself at just the thought of seeing him. i never tire of him, if we are wasting away in front of law & order re-runs, or adventuring *whatever that may be*. i always glean a sense of excitement prior to meeting up with him, even if we have only been separated by hours and not days... but i almost have that same feeling now, as when we were leading up to our first kiss. and what a show that was!

amazingly, i feel this very same way, even when i am angry with him, even when his name is spoken with hyphenated-profanities in the comfort of conversation with noah... i still long to be with him, share my time and breath with him.

***as written in a card and spoken on several occasions:
"every time i see you, i am just as excited as i was when i wondered, 'who is this amazing creature, and what is his name?' and yet, i feel that we have lived an age together. what a perfectly harmonic dichotomy for a relationship to thrive on."

eh, maybe it's just the earrings.

ear chimes

2006-08-18T15:49:31Z

in an attempt to break myself free from the confines of the walls i have built...

that sounds so dramatic, doesn't it?

i purchased a pair of chandelier earrings 2 weeks ago. this morning, i pried open the stainless steel captive bead rings that had been in my ears for 6 years or more, and replaced them with these uber-feminine sentiments. when i try to toss my hair back, they jingle in my ears.

the heft that is now gently tugging on my lobes is oddly sensual.

i don't know why i didn't do this sooner.