Sunday, February 27, 2005

The Story Behind "Essence"

If you haven’t read "Essence," its below in my Saturday post. "Essence" was born of a series of events and an incredible, at least to me, transportation in time. When I arrived in Tübingen, West Germany, I was assigned to a dorm with four or five other exchange students on my floor. There was a communal kitchen on each floor and ours had a very peculiar smell. Not necessarily bad, but different. I can’t even recall the smell as I sit here, it was so peculiar. I do recall there was a counter around most of the room. A couple of sinks, cabinets, a table with a formica covering, tile floor, and once a day, the sunlight sat in the room at the perfect angle to illuminate the dust motes. Having rooted around somewhat, I found a jar of peanut butter, one of my favorite things to eat. There was only one non-exchange person on our floor. A medical student who was very friendly, but he spoke no English. Well, that’s another story. The time I spent in Tübingen was very frustrating, new, exciting, lonely, and anxiety riddled. It was very difficult even with the quick friends I had made. We were in an intensive language course, designed to give us the best chance at being able to communicate with our families and others. I had trouble with my blood sugar and spent time in the emergency room with panic attacks. I cannot say it was a wonderful time, nor can I say it was terrible. I have a great many memories of that time, fast and furious memories. As fast as the time we spent there. One of my friends was Bill. He was from Pennsylvania and had a U2 tape which I borrowed. "New Years Day" was on that tape. I played it to the distraction of everyone around me. Can you hear the song in your mind? The opening bars? When I close my eyes, I can hear it and still see the view as I walked the short distance from my room to the kitchen, the jar of JIF on the corner of the counter, the peculiar smell, the dust motes. I left there, never to return. Or so I thought. After I returned from Germany and settled back into my life here, my mind would wander back to my time overseas, but rarely, if ever, to that kitchen in the dorm. The memories at the forefront of my mind were those of my family and friends in the town I had lived. Until one day, my friend G.G. and I were out running around, picking up vodka and orange juice for the weekend. I believe, if my memory serves me correctly, we were sitting at a gas station. She climbed back in the car, dumped one of my favorite snacks in my lap, and then turned the car on. I heard the opening bars from "New Years Day" and I saw her hand go out to change the channel. I remember stopping her and then I wasn’t there anymore. I was standing in the doorway of the dorm kitchen and that smell, that peculiar smell was all around me. The peanut butter jar, the dust motes, the feelings, especially the anxiety was right there. I wasn’t looking at myself standing in the doorway. I was standing in the doorway. I could feel the chill that only concrete and tile has. It was so fascinating I wanted to stay there. I wanted it. I wanted to go back. I missed my exchange friends, I missed my family, I missed my other friends. Regardless of the overpowering feelings of angst and loneliness, I wanted it. It was the beginning of the one of the happiest times of my life. It was the beginning of one of the few times I have ever felt accepted completely based on who I really was. I was expected to change, expected to be different, and I tried to hold onto it. I couldn’t though. Literally, it was like my focus shifted and I was right back where I had been. My hand still on G.G’s, "New Year’s Day" still playing on the radio. I looked over at her and she had a very confused, questioning look on her face. "Where the hell did you go?" "Germany." I felt the tears fill my eyes and I looked away as they ran down my cheeks. I cried the tears I probably should have cried then. I let my pride down and allowed the feelings I had denied and shoved down inside overwhelm me, and as I cried, I let them go. I have had instances where a particular smell has brought back memories. I have had instances where a particular song has brought back memories. That time though, was the only one where the emotion was tied to both, and it was the music that lead to the smell, which lead to the emotion, which lead to the music, which lead to the smell, and on and on. That is "Essence."
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    Saturday, February 26, 2005

    Essence

    I was pilfering around on AJ's site this morning, hoping I would see that he has posted, which he hasn't, when I clicked on his profile, not sure if I had ever read it. Blogger puts random posts up below that and I started reading part of his "Deja Pew" post, where he talks about how scent is linked to memory. Which reminded me of Crypto encouraging me to post some of my fiction. Fiction about scent. But this is not fiction. This is actually something that happened to me one day. Okay, it is a bit fictionalized or rather... hard to explain. Nate and I are going out and about today, visiting The Clay Center, where we'll see "Dolphins" in the IMAX theater, "Mars" in their planetarium show, visit the museum, and do all sorts of neat things with the science center. Then we're visiting T-Bird's mom and after that having dinner with my parents and my dad's Seabee buddies. Its also my dad's 63rd birthday. Happy Birthday Daddy! Essence It happened as the stoplight changed from green to yellow, U2 singing about New Year’s Day, transporting me along the mythical lines of space and time, those of dreams, premonitions, and remembrances. I arrived in a vortex and noticed the smell. Our lives are inundated by scents - food, soap, laundry detergent, fabric softeners, perfumes, colognes, never one, but many, mixed in the right combination to form our essence. Some betray our profession, some our sins. Places hold this essence as well. Must, mold, mildew, candles, potpourri, dogs, cats, rats or just the essences of many humans who pass through. So it was as I arrived in the kitchen of the dormitory where I lived just a month. I could hear my music down the hallway, U2 singing about New Year’s Day. It smelled of medieval history and the essences of many. The peanut butter jar sat on the table, the sunlight cut the dust, and my feelings were still there. My stomach tightened, the essence of my angst and loneliness still lingering there. Even so, I wanted to stay, to experience those new and harsh feelings again, so I could be as strong now as I had been then. I could not hold onto it, my eyes focused forward, the light changed green, and U2 sang about New Year’s Day.
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    Friday, February 25, 2005

    Ssnnaaiill ... Mmaaiill

    Got home yesterday and I saw the distinctive white-with-green-triangles-border envelope which I normally send queries in. This envelope was beat up and covered with black magic marker. I walked up and grabbed it off the top of my mailbox. It was to my friend Jeremy in Iraq. But he’s been home for two months.... The postmark - September 10, 2004. Return to Sender. His address had been marked through and another address listed. Then that address had been scribbled through. Holy shit. No wonder he never wrote me back! This was about 5:10 or so. I went in the house and made sure Nate didn’t have any homework and I got the phone and called Jer. I hadn’t talked to him since December of 2003. And... obviously we had stopped writing while he was overseas because... he never got my letter. He got on the phone and we talked for the next... almost three hours. That particular package had the first beaded bracelet I ever made in it. And photos. He said, “Send it to me here! At this rate, I’ll probably get it in July.” LOL!! He is a wonderful guy. His girlfriend is a very, very lucky lady. He’s leaving the military and going into respiratory therapy. Good for him! He said, “I just want a job where I don’t have to kill anybody and nobody’s throwing bombs at me and trying to kill me.” Well said. And if I ever have to have respiratory therapy... drool... I’ll take that 6'4" dude with the baby blues. He’s a very compassionate person so I know he’ll do well. ************************************ You know how I feel right now? I feel like I do when I’ve spent a month preparing for a million dollar case and it settles right before trial... when we’re getting ready to pack the cars with boxes and trial suits and the damn case settles. The adrenaline goes...pfffffffffffffffft! And we’re left with the depression, the let down. That’s how I feel. I feel that way because of the recent goings on in Blogland. I miss Jack. I miss Jack’s archives. But I’m not gonna whine about it. I’m too devious to not try and do something about it... hee hee. ********************************** I wrote this in a letter to a friend and had mentioned it to another blogger and they wondered if I had posted it and I hadn’t so, here it is: You see, I could lay out topless in Europe. Go to the local beach and watch Nate play in the sand with my breasts bared. I’d watch the men behind my glasses in their Speedos, trying to look at me without getting caught. Not only me though, the other women too. All of us different, our breasts different, some women pregnant in their bikinis. I wanted to laugh sometimes, wondering why those men put themselves through the game of trying to look like they’re not looking when they were looking. They seemed interested in our bodies and then they would leave the beach and swim out to the boat line. I knew the water was deep and cold there, its where I almost drowned. I wondered if they cooled their bodies just to come back to the beach and put themselves through it again. Have a good weekend. I'll be making a trip by your place. Yes, you. No need to tidy up. I'll just pop by for a minute. Oh, and I can't remember who, but somebody had pudding on their monitor. You guys may want to check that.
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    Thursday, February 24, 2005

    Too Many Arns In Da Far

    That's Southern speak for "G-ddamn, I'm busier than a one-armed paperhanger in an ass kickin' contest." Ya'll say that in the North? And what is up with all of the damn passwords I have these days?? Three e-mail accounts, two separate Blogger log-ins, Blogpatrol, Photobucket, Haloscan, Jeanette's blog, my work computer, my accounting program, audioblogger, porn download, Verizon account, eMinutes, online bill paying, cell phone voicemail, home voicemail, two check cards. I even got a password on the damn PS2 so Nate can't play Grand Theft Auto. Gahhh!! I get all dicked around and bumfuzzled and can't remember which password goes to which username, if I can remember the user name at all. No, I don't write them down. I mean to but I just never seem to get there. Craft projects out the ass. Seven books to read. Nate is a little under seven points behind on his AR points. So, we're going to read "The Book of Three" together. I really want him to sit and read it to me a bit and we can read back and forth. The amount of homework he's bringing home has decreased and the teacher says he's doing better. His mid-term grades are all over the map. "A"s in Spelling and Health, "B" in Social Studies, "C"s in Reading and Science, "D" in Math and "F" in English. I think. I haven't actually seen it yet as he keeps "forgetting" to bring it home although the principal called to tell me what they are. He has 2 1/2 weeks to see how things go before I do intervention. I reminded him that he's brought his Spelling, Health and Science up from C's last nine weeks. He's holding steady in Reading and Science and we just need to keep all of those where they are and work hard on bringing up the Math and English. Its like he can bring one up but then another falls. Everybody send him good vibes. My desk looks like ... a dunno a hurricane came through??? Tornado?? File folders, loose records stacked in piles and the boss keeps coming back with more files. I started this at 8:54 a.m. and I'm just now getting the time to finish it. I haven't had enough coffee. My parents stopped by. They have a lemon law case with my firm. My dad is so meticulous about his car you can't imagine what hell it is for three sets of front tires to wear out in 36,000 miles and then have to listen to him about it. They think either the frame itself is bent or the spindles are wrong. It gives me a headache. The lawyer here who is dealing with him told me that now he realized I got my personality honest. What? Do you have a problem with my personality? Damn. Pulled off another project for another project which will put the other project behind and then that will filter to the other projects. Damn. Gotta go.
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    Wednesday, February 23, 2005

    Sad Days

    I look at my links sadly. As of yesterday, yet another, YET ANOTHER! Blogger forced to close up shop. If you haven't heard, its Jack. Yep, someone in his office found his blog. Lovisa has closed up, whether temporary, I don't know. Dastard likewise. Kristin is out although still about. Seeker hasn't posted since January 7th. Phoebe is on hiatus for her pregnancy and perhaps beyond. We've lost Sloth and Michael for a time, but lucky for us, they came back. Other bloggers have moved their URLs or simply quit due to hatemail. We, collectively, us, we bloggers, should not feel pressure to blog. If I didn't blog I would simply find another outlet, whether it be handwritten diaries or long letters, poetry or other forms of written expression. Sometimes I post just for me. Sometimes, like today, I post for you and me. Sometimes I would prefer not to have comments because whatever is the basis of my rant is now over for me. I've said it. Its done. I'm ready to move on. Comments tend to string it out though and I'm contemplating on posts that are just something I need to get off my chest and move on from, I will just disable comments for that post. Or just tell ya... no comments needed. I hope Jack finds a way to continue blogging. I offered that you can indeed have a private blog, accessible by anyone who has the URL but unfindable in any search engine. I know. I have a private blog and I have googled, yahooed, AOLed, Dogpiled that bitch to hell and back. I figure if I can google, not the just the name of the Blog but also the URL and nothing comes back, I'm pretty sure no one is gonna find it. I even googled titles of the posts... na-da. So, I hope that is an option for him. In other sad news, my kitten, Emmett, died yesterday. He's been sick and then sicker and then better, getting better, and then just start that over. Seems as soon as I would get him eating good, no bowel problems, starting to gain weight, he would backslide, although all the other cats remained healthy and thriving. Monday I noticed a drainage from his ear and the unmistakable smell of infection. I knew it was an ear infection, easily treatable in a healthy feline with antibiotic ear drops, but... I knew that would probably not be the case in my little buddy. I still stopped and got the medication but pretty much knew when I got home he wouldn't still be alive. I knew he was ready Monday night. I got up at 1:00 to answer the phone and he followed me into the computer room. I figured he wanted me to feed him since I always made his food special. He didn't though. He just climbed onto my lap and nestled down, purring non-stop for the two hours I sat there. Funny thing is, his brother did the exact same thing before he died. Nate sobbed. We comforted each other, buried him together, and then talked about what a good kitty he was, how much we loved him, how much he loved us, and that love is the best thing of all. Emmett used to lay on top of or beside of my floor furnace and all evening, and this morning, I side-stepped it, like I have for the past 8 weeks, careful to not tread on his little body. Ah, yeah, that was rough. I can't talk about this anymore.... I posted some of my drawings on my photoblog over the weekend. I did most of them in college. I also got some pics from CooterAng of the bracelet I did for her. If I can figure it out.... I'll post it here... they may turn out huge and stuff since I don't know much about re-sizing and all that so... deal with it. Okay.. let's try this.... Yep, they're huge but at least you can see the detail of the beads. And here's a picture of a beaded sunflower which Trashman has asked me to make into a brooch for Jen. I'll need to fiddle around with it and order some special beads but that's going to be fun. Hopefully I'll have it done by the time I get to Texas. Which would mean, might be a good idea to get the template for it if I don't have one at home. I forgot to look. I'm still working on getting the cloth together for Savannah and EJ's quilts. Trashman sent a bunch and I need some other fabrics to go with it. Angi sent me photos of some fabric she has I just haven't had to time to compare and contrast it with what Trashman sent. I'm hoping after I return from NOLA/Houston (yes, seems more and more like I'm going), I can in ernest get moving on it, at least get all of the pieces cut out and then go bug my mom to help me, at least get me started on doing it right. I'm done for today. I'll post some pics that my cousin sent of her artwork tomorrow.
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    Tuesday, February 22, 2005

    If I Missed You, I'm Sorry/Road Trip

    I check on occasion my Haloscan account and find that at times I miss comments when I’ve moved on to another post. So, to those I missed: Lee Joslyn - Lee left three comments on my post about dyslexia. She didn’t list a blog address but did leave an e-mail. I’m not sure how she came across my blog but she wasn’t real happy with me. That’s okay. I know I’ve been harsh towards the school system in general. She also stated though that she had recently lost her daughter to a violent crime. Her anguish, heartache, and anger came across loud and clear. Her husband has also been an educator for 29 years so I can understand her ire, although I may not agree with all that she said. My heart goes out to Lee in what must be a terrible time in her life. I’m going to e-mail her. Vader - Thanks for coming by. Its good to see you out and about in blogland. I haven’t been by very much lately but I will swing by and see what you’ve been up to besides trying to corrupt Ciggy. Harleyquinn also posted after I had moved on from the “Real Me” post. She said something about SD “pissing up a rope.” Bwhahahahahahaaha.... I need to save that one. Green-Eyed Lady also left three comments on the same one that Lee did. I did catch those. GEL has also been involved in schools and teaching. Its good to get many view points. Thank you GEL. Timegod stopped by to say hello and let me know he/she appreciated my comment to them when they’re pet passed away. Again, no blog address. I’ve been lax in replying to e-mails. That includes one from a nice young woman after I had commented on her blog regarding her wedding plans. Yeah, first time I ever commented and I’m leaving her suggestions, which she was soliciting. She was sweet enough to send me an e-mail thanking me. Weddings can be so stressful. Jeanette, Angi, Cybele, Julie... you gals should know you’re in my thoughts. Right now I’m wavering on making the trip to NOLA/Houston. Why? No, its not money. I’m not an expensive traveler and I have a little extra cash coming in. This would be a “please, I want to keep my sanity” trip. My guilt comes from leaving Nate behind. Even though I’m planning three short trips for us this year: Nashville Renaissance Festival, white water rafting, and Holiday World. Yes, I feel guilty. I feel guilty for thinking of leaving my child with his grandparents for over a week and then shipping him off to his dad’s thereafter so I can take some much needed R&R. Yes, I need it. I normally try to keep my trips to weekends only but two days is barely enough time for me to stop gritting my teeth much less relax. Save the lectures. Troy has beat all of you to it. “You only live once.” “Ever think he’s sick of you and the both of yas could use a break?” “You’re not just a mom, you’re a woman too, a person.” “When are you gonna give yourself a break?” Or in the immortal words of T-Bird, “What the fuck are you waiting for?” “Yeah, let me see you leave J3 for over a week.” “Shutting up.” However, my plans as of right now are: Leave the 24th of March about noon and drive to the general vicinity of Birmingham, Alabama. Yes, DRIVE. That’s nine hours. Its another five from Birmingham to where my cousin lives. I like driving and with gas prices cheaper in the South it will save on me flying and then getting a rental car. I can’t be without wheels. Stay in NOLA from Friday to Monday. Leave Monday for Houston. Stay in Houston, Monday through Wednesday. Leave Thursday, back to NOLA. Leave Friday for home. Then again I may leave the 24th right after I drop Nate off at school at 8:05 a.m. Drive, drive, drive... until I don’t wants to drive no more. That would probably put me somewhere between Meridian and Hattiesburg, MS. Then I’ll have the parents saying, “WHAT? YOU’RE DRIVING?” Yes, driving. “But what if...” Yeah, what if I’m standing on the street corner and some freak pops the curve and runs my ass over? I’ve traveled a lot, in planes, on trains, in automobiles. I’ve visited NYC, Paris, Munich, Frankfurt, Berlin, New Orleans, Houston, Kansas City, Portland, Charlotte, Atlanta, Knoxville, Norfolk, and I’ve been lost in downtown Detroit, at night, by myself. But they’re my parents and they’re going to worry. I worry more about NOT doing it.
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    Sunday, February 20, 2005

    Inspiration

    I saw "8 Mile" for the first time this weekend. I wanted to see it in 2002 but of course, I'm three years behind on just about everything. I was impressed and enjoyed it a lot. More than a lot. I think I enjoyed it because I could identify so strongly with Rabbit. Plus, I've been to Detroit. His Detroit. At night. I've known trailer parks. I've known poverty. I've known drunks and drug addicts and people hoping and wishing but going nowhere. Between the time I returned from Germany and started college, my friends from back home in the coalfields sat me down at the kitchen table with a bottle of vodka, a gallon of orange juice, and told me I didn't belong there. They were older than me. Gayle and Mike were probably 25, Dean was probably 30 or so with three kids. I was 19. It was tough to hear the friends I looked up to and felt a part of tell me I wasn't a part of them anymore, or as Dean said, "If you ever were." They saw a greatness in me, a destiny, I couldn't see in myself. I left the coalfields. I left the endless lines of coal trucks belching black diesel smoke as they chugged up the rugged mountains. I left miles of winding roads, the valleys and the hallows, the small town gossip. I left my youth spent running the fields, climbing the mountainside, riding bikes, and playing sandlot football. I transplanted myself into a hell of my own making. Anyone who tells you that anywhere in West Virginia is urban, is fucking lying. We have about 54,000 people that live in the capital city. New York City... oh... 8 million. New York City has more people than my entire state by about 6.5 million. However, by West Virginia standards... Charleston is urban. Considering the county I lived in had 25,000 residents (and maybe 10 last names), moving to the 'BIG CITY' was something. Life is slow here. Simple. The worst that can happen on your way to work is a detour because someone in an SUV didn't realize ice is still ice. You might have a shelter-in-place drill, just in case one of those chemical factories blows and we become the next Bhopal, except there were a lot more people in Bhopal. The last Wednesday of every month, the shelter-in-place siren is tested at noon. Everyday when I go to work, I see the same people in the parking garage. I see the retired doctor walking his dog. You CANNOT walk down the street without seeing someone you know or seeing someone else that knows someone that you know. And OH THE HUMANITY! People stop and talk on the sidewalk! Actually... STOP! This is the big city. I moved to the 'burbs. Ha. I bought a trailer almost as old as I was from a friend making a quick getaway to WV2, North Carolina in other words. You doubt this? Try going ANYWHERE on I-77 South during the holidays. The wait at the tollbooths can be two hours long. I was proud to own my first home, regardless of how old and ugly it was. Regardless of the fact I had to hold the door together with duct tape. Or the those nifty fold out windows that had folded out one day and just decided to stay there. The trailer park sat on top of a hill, which I now, not so affectionately, call The Hill. The Hill was full of other transplants. They had just grown up in different and hollows than I had. It became apparent that once you got on The Hill, it wasn't very likely you were leaving. To me, it was just a transitioning place until I could get where I was going. Then I got pregnant. Perhaps making $14,000 a year was all fine and dandy for me and my simple lifestyle, my 7 year old car, my $3000 trailer but it didn't go very far at buying diapers. The juggle began. Juggling everything. Splitting a penny four ways became my speciality. Even as I got a different job and I started making more money, it didn't really ease the pressure that much. However, some lady decided to ram her huge truck into the ass-end of my car, which still causes my neck considerable pain at times, even seven years later. The settlement wasn't grand but combined with my income tax return, I was able to pay off the trailer and the rest of my debt and still have some money in the bank. Around that same time, AZ was studying for his realtor's license and I told him if he passed I would buy a house from him. He did, I think in November of 1998. After income tax time of 1999, I called him and started getting serious. Trust me, having a child can ruin your credit so I had just spent the last four months getting my ducks in a row. It helped that everything I had was paid for. I qualified for first time home buyer since the trailer had been bought with a personal loan. I got interest free downpayment money (for three years) and a sweet interest rate for the time. I sold the trailer for $1500 and said good riddance. It had served its purpose. On May 19, 1999, AZ handed me the keys to my home. The one I sit in now, blogging. Its very modest. Three bedrooms, one bath, attic, crawl space, front and back yards, no central air, floor furnance, living room, kitchen. I don't take it for granted. I'm sure on The Hill, every other trailer holds a meth lab. At least down here next to the tracks, we only have one every other block. But its not where I want to be, if it ever was. Perhaps its not the place, but how I feel about being here. Perhaps its not the place that's keeping me from pursuing my dreams. Perhaps its me. Is it fear of failure or fear of success? Is the fear of uprooting Nate? Or the fear of never leaving? Or the fear of losing my simplicity? I don't feel like I belong here anymore, if I ever did.
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    Saturday, February 19, 2005

    One Ringy Dingy, Two Ringy Dingy

    9:49 p.m. "Hey, you know, its okay to say no. Sometimes you just need a break." *beep* "Hey, hold on, I gotta beep, it might be so-and-so." *click* Hello? *beep* Motherfuck! *click* HelLO? "Hi, may I speak to Inanna puhhleeze." "Oh, shit, goddamn, no. What the fuck do you want?" "You know what I want." "Oh, goddamn, fuck, god, fuck no. No, I'm on another line. NO." *click* "Hey." "Hey." "Guess who that was?" "Who?" "Ex-boss callin' for some booty. Dumbass." ... Later that same evening IM Chat Lex: how come ur not out and 'bout? Nanner: Just chillun. Lex: ever get your cleanin' done? lol Nanner: Hell no. Lex: Gonna head out and about... Lex: I'll look fur ya online later. Nanner: Okay. See ya, have fun, take care. Lex: Too bad about da cleanin'... Wuz thinkin bout coming by and inspecting... lol (Lex logs off) Nanner *sings* Lex is a big ole farty cat! Farty cat! Lex is a big ole scaredy cat! Scaredy cat! Lex is a big ole smelly cat! Smellllly CAT! Smelllly CAT! Pfffffft! The ex-boss called me on Wednesday too. Luckily, I saw the Caller ID and just rolled my eyes and didn't pick up. WHAT. THE. FUCK? After almost four years the mofo suddenly decides that he can't live without fucking me??? Not that I would have slept with him anytime IN the past four years!! Stupid. As for Lex... Pfffffffffft! What the hell?? And what exactly did that fucking mean? I know, its an inside joke between us about the "house cleaning and inspection." Its just that everytime he got ready to come down I ran around straightening because I wanted him to feel comfortable here and when we broke up, I didn't feel any such pressure. Soooo, had I said, "Yeah, house is clean," would that have entitled him to come down here? Did he think that? But to me, its like he was dangling his carrot in my face. Yes, that carrot. As though I'm so hard up for it (shut up) that I'm just going to accept what ever dangles?? Notice that he said he was going out. Did he ask me if I wanted to go out with him? You'll notice, he did not. I do not like being hidden away. That's bullshit. I can pay my own way. Don't let me interfere with your style man, but you ain't gettin' any either! If you can't be straight up with me, say what's on your mind or your dick, then stop playin'. And I HATE THAT.. if you were only X or do X then I would be Y or do Y. Fuck that. The whole, if you would just conform to my standards you shall be rewarded thing. What the fuck makes him think being with him was ALL THAT? Sexually, okay, I can't complain. Otherwise ... no. And I would want this again why??? So last night...er this morning at 3:30 as he was logging in, I was logging out. I woke up this morning and found an offline message that said, "Nighty." I flipped it the middle finger. I'm not holding out for us to pick up our relationship where we left off. I'm really not interested because it appears as though the things that we talked about a few months ago... well, it hasn't brought about any significant difference in how he treats me. Okay, none. He's a really nice emotionally disabled guy with his head stuck up his ass. Between him and AZ, I'm done with pulling guys heads out of their asses. It doesn't work. People will not change unless they want to, no matter HOW MUCH YOU ENCOURAGE THEM TO MAKE POSITIVE CHANGE IN THEIR LIFE!!!! Not for someone else, BUT FOR THEM!! To lead happier, more fulfilling lives. You know, its not like I sat back in judgement and said, "Yo, you need to change this." They came to me, telling me of their woes and trials and I was honest with them, then nothing happens. Okay. Fine. But in the words of My Sunshine, I gotta keep on, keepin' on.
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    Friday, February 18, 2005

    Please Pause For The Following Station Break

    Its all about me today. I love my son but today... its about me. Its not about Mom... Mom fell asleep two or three hours ago. Its just me, the Peachy Goodness now. The Nannerlicious... I want laid. But I know I’m not gonna get laid. Why? Well, I’m not really looking to repeat previous mistakes and I’m too dang tired to get dressed up and go out lookin’ for some strange. Besides, strange can become your worst fucking nightmare and I don’t need any more nightmares. Relationship wise... ummmm... yeah... Well. Its difficult realizing that you’re not as compatible as you once thought. I’ll leave it at that. I did have something happen that brought a smile to my face today. A big smile. A big goofy smile. A blushy, goofy smile. Huh? What was it? Nah... not tellin’. One of those things it takes forever to put in your diary. Like a small jar of sunshine you carry with you in the darkness of life. You see it. You guard it jealously. You hide it. Its yours and you’re not sharing! Its mine! Hands. Off. Back to that laid thing. I’m actually quite exhausted. Mentally exhausted. A totally different feeling than being physically exhausted. I find myself feeling romantic. You know, long, drawn out, slow, sensual sex instead of the BANG ME BABY!! sex. This doesn’t happen very often. Shame to waste it. That should say something about how mentally fatigued I am... my brain is actually slugging along so slow... I want slow sex. I think I like the harder, faster sex because I’m so impatient! Must be why being blindfolded, tied up and tied down is so exciting... irritating... frustrating... enticing. Someone making me slow down and wait............................. Huh? Sorry, lost in my thoughts. Thinking of the weight of silence. When you can’t see them. Reach out to them. Can’t hear them. But you feel them. When hot breath on the back of your neck can make every muscle tremble... with desire. When the sound that breaks the silence is your own quivering breath. One finger traced down your spine.............. Ahem. One can dream.
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    Wednesday, February 16, 2005

    I think I might cry... or am I crazy??

    When I got home today Nate said he had a great day and had no homework.... YAY!! I told the babysitter after Nate went home (she lives next door) that I had spoken to the resource teacher today and she was a bit frosty. They want to start with a 504 Plan... all good, and he’s to be tested on March 17th. Then she looks at me (Jackie, my angel), and says, "I still think he’s dyslexic." I looked at her strangely, "but, he can read just fine and he understands what he reads." She said, "but that’s not all of what dyslexia is." Food for thought. Naturally, Nanner comes home and gets on the Internet. *sniff* Here’s what I found (those things pertaining to Nate are highlighted): The word dyslexia comes from the Greek language and means poor language. Individuals with dyslexia have trouble with reading, writing, spelling and/or math although they have the ability and have had opportunities to learn. Individuals with dyslexia can learn; they just learn in a different way. Often these individuals, who have talented and productive minds, are said to have a language learning difference. Does My Child Have Dyslexia? Individuals with dyslexia usually have some of the following characteristics. Difficulty with oral language ̈ Late in learning to talk ̈ Difficulty pronouncing words ̈ Difficulty acquiring vocabulary or using age appropriate grammar ̈ Difficulty following directions ̈ Confusion with before/after, right/left, and so on ̈ Difficulty learning the alphabet, nursery rhymes, or songs ̈ Difficulty understanding concepts and relationships ̈ Difficulty with word retrieval or naming problems Difficulty with reading ̈ Difficulty learning to read ̈ Difficulty identifying or generating rhyming words, or counting syllables in words (Phonological Awareness) ̈ Difficulty with hearing and manipulating sounds in words (Phonemic Awareness) ̈ Difficulty distinguishing different sounds in words (Auditory Discrimination) ̈ Difficulty in learning the sounds of letters ̈ Difficulty remembering names and/or shapes of letters ̈ Reverses letters or the order of letters when reading ̈ Misreads or omits common small words ̈ "Stumbles" through longer words ̈ Poor reading comprehension during oral or silent reading ̈ Slow, laborious oral reading Difficulty with written language ̈ Difficulty putting ideas on paper ̈ Many spelling mistakes ̈ May do well on weekly spelling tests, but there are many spelling mistakes in daily work ̈ Difficulty in proofreading Does My Child Have Other Related Learning Disorders? Difficulty with handwriting (Dysgraphia) ̈ Unsure of right or left handedness ̈ Poor or slow handwriting ̈ Messy and unorganized papers ̈ Difficulty copying ̈ Poor fine motor skills Difficulty with math (Dyscalculia) ̈ Difficulty counting accurately ̈ May reverse numbers ̈ Difficulty memorizing math facts ̈ Difficulty copying math problems and organizing written work ̈ Many calculation errors ̈ Difficulty retaining math vocabulary and/or concepts Difficulty with attention (ADD/ADHD – Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) ̈ Inattention ̈ Variable attention ̈ Distractibility ̈ Impulsivity ̈ Hyperactivity Difficulty with motor skills (Dyspraxia) ̈ Difficulty planning and coordinating body movements ̈ Difficulty coordinating facial muscles to produce sounds Difficulty with organization ̈ Loses papers ̈ Poor sense of time ̈ Forgets homework ̈ Messy desk ̈ Overwhelmed by too much input ̈ Works slowly Other ̈ Difficulty naming colors, objects, and letters (Rapid Automatized Naming) ̈ Memory problems ̈ Needs to see or hear concepts many times in order to learn them ̈ Distracted by visual stimuli ̈ Downward trend in achievement test scores or school performance ̈ Work in school is inconsistent ̈ Teacher says, "If only she would try harder," or "He’s lazy." Relatives may have similar problems Everyone probably can check one or two of these characteristics. That does not mean that everyone has dyslexia. A person with dyslexia usually has several of these characteristics, which persist over time and interfere with his or her learning. If your child is having difficulties learning to read and you have noted several of these characteristics in your child, he or she may need to be evaluated for dyslexia and/or a related disorder. The International Dyslexia Association thanks Suzanne Carreker for her assistance in the preparation of this fact sheet. The International Dyslexia Association · 8600 LaSalle Road, Chester Bldg. #382 · Baltimore, MD 21286-2044 Tel: 410-296-0232 · Fax: 410-321-5069 · E-mail: info@interdys.org · Website: http://www.interdys.org © Copyright 2003, The International Dyslexia Association (IDA). IDA encourages the reproduction and distribution of this fact sheet. If portions of the text are cited, appropriate reference must be made. Fact sheets may not be reprinted for the purpose of resale. Fact Sheet #63 – 01/03 Additionally, there are the social implications. To save space I’m just going to cut and paste those passages which I see in Nate. The frustration of children with dyslexia often centers on their inability to meet expectations. Their parents and teachers see a bright, enthusiastic child who is not learning to read and write. Time and again, dyslexics and their parents hear, "He’s such a bright child; if only he would try harder." Ironically, no one knows exactly how hard the dyslexic is trying. The pain of failing to meet other people’s expectations is surpassed only by dyslexics’ inability to achieve their goals. This is particularly true of those who develop perfectionistic expectations in order to deal with their anxiety. They grow up believing that it is "terrible" to make a mistake. However, their learning disability, almost by definition means that these children will make many "careless" or "stupid" mistakes. This is extremely frustrating to them, as it makes them feel chronically inadequate. The dyslexic frequently has problems with social relationships. This next passage is absolutely one of the most frustrating things for a parent. Knowing you’ve taught your child right from wrong and yet they seem to "lie" even when confronted. If you can imagine a scenario involving Nate, this is what would happen: My clinical observations lead me to believe that, just as dyslexics have difficulty remembering the sequence of letter or words, they may also have difficulty remembering the order of events. For example, let us look at a normal playground interaction between two children. A dyslexic child takes a toy that belongs to another child, who calls the dyslexic a name. The dyslexic then hits the other child. In relating the experience, the dyslexic child may reverse the sequence of events. He may remember that the other child called him a name, and he then took the toy and hit the other child. This presents two major difficulties for the dyslexic child. First, it takes him longer to learn from his mistakes. Second, if an adult witnessed the events, and asks the dyslexic child what happened, the child seems to be lying. Unfortunately, most interactions between children involve not three events, but 15 to 20. With his sequencing and memory problems, the dyslexic may relate a different sequence of events each time he tells the tale. Teachers, parents, and psychologists conclude that he is either psychotic or a pathological liar. This explains why, why, why Nate can one day be golden boy in school and the next, just completely blow it. The inconsistencies of dyslexia produce serious challenges in a child’s life. There is a tremendous variability in the student’s individual abilities. Although everyone has strengths and weaknesses, the dyslexic’s are greatly exaggerated. Furthermore, the dyslexic’s strengths and weaknesses may be closely related. These great variations produce a "roller coaster"effect for dyslexics. At times, they can accomplish tasks far beyond the abilities of their peers. At the next moment, they can be confronted with a task that they cannot accomplish. Many dyslexics call this "walking into black holes." Finally, dyslexics’ performance varies from day to day. On some days, reading may come fairly easily. However, another day, they may be barely able to write their own name. This inconsistency is extremely confusing not only to the dyslexic, but also to others in his environment. Few other handicapping conditions are intermittent in nature. A child in a wheelchair remains there; in fact, if on some days the child can walk, most professionals would consider it a hysterical condition. However, for the dyslexic, performance fluctuates. This makes it extremely difficult for the individual to learn to compensate, because he or she cannot predict the intensity of the symptoms on a given day. There’s more, but... I’m overwhelmed. I thought dyslexia only had to do with reading and meant that kids always inverted letters and numbers but then I realized that Nate does do that but I thought it was because he wasn’t paying attention and yes, he does make a lot of spelling errors although he is a good speller on spelling tests. And the writing thing... he’s a poster child. And the inconsistencies... fantastic one day... shitty the next. No wonder the kid is fucking confused. I also read where they believe the same type of "scrambling" which occurs with ADHD is also linked to forms of dsylexia. I know, I know... he’s not been diagnosed. He’s been tested twice... but not for dyslexia, which is a different type of test from what I understand, especially the written expression part. I didn’t want to believe that he might have dyslexia. I really thought it was just about reading, more so than writing. After reading this, and especially the social factors and how Nate acts and what happens, I’m just... overfuckingwhelmed!!! Furthermore, all of the accommodations I was going to ask for based on NATE’S WEAKNESSES are recommended for children suffering from... dyslexia and dysgraphia. Guys, am I nuts??? If you think I’m nuts just say so. I’m printing this stuff out tomorrow, marking it and faxing it to the school. I want to know if I’m the only one who sees this. They have to see it, because they’re the ones who keep pointing it out. I know my neighbor sees it (and yes, she’s had all kinds of child care training and her husband is getting ready to graduate with a degree in secondary education.) Am I just seeing what I want to see??
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    Good News!

    Good news, finally... sort of. My ADD doc and others are trying to get CHARTER SCHOOL LEGISLATION PASSED!!! I told him I would help in any way. I have quite a few contacts at the Capitol through clients and associates of our firm, especially other attorney’s and friends of friends. Woot!!! Yay!! Yay!! Once the legislation is passed they will apply for a charter for an ADD/ADHD school!!! Woot! Woot! Woot! Furthermore, found out the school is fucking me over on Nate’s evaluation/IEP/504. This is their unlucky day. I’ve bypassed the teacher now and I’m going straight to the head of the resource room. I’m fairly certain that Nate’s teacher would have sent my message along but then it was conveniently lost or misplaced by said principal who is a bitch who could use a big fat PB&J sammich! She’s obscene. Trust me, when I walk into the school its like they have "Parent who gives a shit" radar and all administrators and teachers automatically hide somewhere. And if they are caught by you then they smile like they’ve smelled something bad. I have news for these peeps. There is nothing wrong with Nate. He’s not a freak nor is he a bad kid nor is he lazy or without merit. The fuckers just don’t want to have to make accommodations for kids like him. Now, I work 5-6 days a week. Last year, I paid out over $1300.00 in state taxes. AND, we have the fucking lottery supplementing my tax dollars. Yet, they don’t want to have to take the time to give Nate oral tests, which he can do much better on, than making him sit for hours and hours on end, which accomplishes nothing! The point is not whether Nate can write word for word everything they want, the point is whether or not he knows the material!!! How often do you write something longhand if you can write it on the computer? I do, but that’s just because I like to slow myself down and watch myself form letters on the page, otherwise, fuck it, I’m using the computer. Even if I send snail mail letters... they’re still freakin’ typed! Yet, they want to force Nate, who has the information in his mind, yet can’t get it out through his hand sit and sit and sit and sit. The Lonely Child has trouble reading material and understanding it. BUT, if you read it TO him then he understands perfectly. Yet, they won’t do it nor will they give him ANY ASSISTANCE IN THE SCHOOL to help him. Luckily, many school systems in WV are pushing through a different reading system which has practically a 100% rating. This system teaches kids to read who the experts said never would. Out with Saxon Phonics. I’m going to call my doc’s office back and find out what that system is and where I can find a copy of the program or someone who can use it for The Lonely Child. I’m doing research on Charter school legislation, and if I have to, I’ll type up the freakin’ legislation myself, its not like I don’t know what I’m doing in the legal craptola. Anywho... Monday my I-net was filtered at work. I thought I was gonna die. I do have I-net access now... go figure but I’m being cautious. So, if I’m not around a lot like I used to during the day... now you know why. I know I owe a fews of ya e-mails and I’m getting there. Have a great day! And that’s an order!
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    Tuesday, February 15, 2005

    Lune Bug

    Spider web glitters Spinning its silky, wavy web All so busy ~By Nate (02/14/05) My son, the poet! I'M SO PROUD!! I had another post but blogger ate it. It was about how I wanted to throttle Nate for taking 5 hours to do his Math. Then, I didn't finish the post because I laid down with him because he's scared of the dark again due to the SD stupid girlfriend and her stupid Boogeyman movie. I'll Boogeyman her! Anyway! ROADTRIPPIN' TIME!!! March 5th/6th - to Nashville to visit AJ. End of March/Beginning of April - (tentative) NOLA/Houston. CooterAng will be in NOLA around the 14th. Hop over to Cootersnap for the final dates. April 15th/16th - (with my cousin) Atlanta for the GA Renn Fest. Aimee is contemplating coming out, Seven is too, and Regan lives there. May (first weekend) - Northern VA to see Troy before he leaves for Afghanistan. May 14th/15th - (with my cousin) TN Renn Fest outside of Nashville. I'm bringing Nate to this one. Summer - Jamie and I are in the "hoping" stages of taking our boys to Holiday World Amusement Park in Indiana. Join the Nanner Peach World Wide Whirlwind Tour of '05!!!
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    Sunday, February 13, 2005

    A Different View

    From ~ The Edison Gene by Thom Hartmann I was in India in 1993 to help manage a community for orphans and blind children on behalf of a German charity. During the monsoon season, the week of the big Hyderabad earthquake, I took an all-day train ride almost all the way across the subcontinent (from Bombay through Hyderabad to Rajamundri) to visit an obscure town near the Bay of Bengal. In the train compartment with me were several Indian businessmen and a physician, and we had plenty of time to talk as the countryside flew by from sunrise to sunset. Curious about how they viewed our children diagnosed as having Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), I asked, "Are you familiar with those types of people who seem to crave stimulation, yet have a hard time staying with any one focus for a period of time? They may hop from career to career and sometimes even from relationship to relationship, never seeming to settle into one job or into a life with one person-but the whole time they remain incredibly creative and inventive." "Ah, we know this type well," one of the men said, the other three nodding in agreement. "What do you call this personality type?" I asked. "Very holy," he said. "These are old souls, near the end of their karmic cycle." Again, the other three nodded agreement, perhaps a bit more vigorously in response to my startled look. "Old souls?" I questioned, thinking that a very odd description for those whom American psychiatrists have diagnosed as having a particular disorder. "Yes," the physician said. "In our religion, we believe that the purpose of reincarnation is to eventually free oneself from worldly entanglement and desire. In each lifetime we experience certain lessons, until finally we are free of this earth and can merge into the oneness of God. When a soul is very close to the end of those thousands of incarnations, he must take a few lifetimes to do many, many things-to clean up the little threads left over from his previous lives." "This is a man very close to becoming enlightened," a businessman added. "We have great respect for such individuals, although their lives may be difficult." Another businessman raised a finger and interjected. "But it is through the difficulties of such lives that the soul is purified." The others nodded agreement. "In America they consider this behavior indicative of a psychiatric disorder," I said. All three looked startled, then laughed. "In America you consider our most holy men, our yogis and swamis, to be crazy people, as well," said the physician with a touch of sadness in his voice. "So it is with different cultures. We live in different worlds." We in our Western world have such "holy" and nearly enlightened people among us and we say they must be mad. But as we're about to see, they may instead be our most creative individuals, our most extraordinary thinkers, our most brilliant inventors and pioneers. The children among us whom our teachers and psychiatrists say are "disordered" may, in fact, carry a set of abilities-a skill set-that was necessary for the survival of humanity in the past, that has created much of what we treasure in our present "quality of life," and that will be critical to the survival of the human race in the future. This came to me via e-mail from Thom Hartmann's organization. I signed up for this newsletter after ordering his book, "Thom Hartmann's Complete Guide to ADHD." He has a theory, supported in part by microbiological research (regarding the interaction of dopamine system genes, DRD4, DRD5, and DAT1 and that of the monoamine system.) Or, something like that. I'm still wading through the medical journals and attempting to figure it all out. I mean, that is part of it, taking things apart to figure out how they work. For some people, its cars, for me, its people. There are articles from genetics, psychiatric genetics, psychiatry, molecular psychiatry, clinical psychology, neural transmission, biological psychiatry, adolescent psychiatry, neuropsychopharmacology, pediatrics, deviant behavior pediatrics, neuropsychobiology, internal medicine, and neuropsychiatric genetics. Yeah, yeah, but what does it all mean?? It means, there is an abnormality in my dopamine. Dopamine is a neurotransmitter formed in the brain. It takes messages from point A to point B. In most people anyway. Now, they can say all they want... but they really DON'T KNOW. There are many genes, and alleles of genes which have to work together to be so dysfunctional. Either my body doesn't metabolize something correctly or some little receptor rejects something and then it can't find a place to go and just kind of meanders around making trouble. However, according to Mr. Hartmann, ADHD and its genetic components were necessary in the hunter world of yester year for the survival of our very species. The Edison Gene. The Edison Trait. The Hunter Gene. The traits most associated with ADHD are seen as liabilities, when in fact, they can be valuable assets. Distractibility Distractibility is often incorrectly characterized as the inability of a child or adult to pay attention to a specific task or topic. Yet people with ADHD can pay attention, even for long periods of time (it's called hyperfocusing), but only to something that excites or interests them. It's a cliché-but true-that "there is no ADHD in front of a good video game." ADHD experts often noted that it's not that those with ADHD can't pay attention to anything; it's that they pay attention to everything. A better way to characterize the distractibility of ADHD is to describe is as scanning. In a classroom, the child with ADHD is the one who notices the janitor mowing the lawn outside the window instead of focusing on the teacher's lecture on long division. Likewise, the bug crawling across the ceiling or the class bully preparing to throw a spitball is infinitely more fascinating than the teacher's analysis of Columbus's place in history. Impulsivity The characteristic of impulsivity has two core manifestations among modern people with ADHD. the first is impulsive behavior: acting without thinking things through or the proverbial leaping before you look. Often this takes the form of interrupting others or blurting things out in conversation. Other times it's reflected in snap judgments or quick decisions. To the prehistoric hunter impulsivity was an asset because it provided the ability to act on instant decisions, as well as the willingness to explore new, untested areas. If the hunter were chasing a rabbit through the forest with his spear, and a deer ran by, he wouldn't have time to stop and calculate a risk/benefit analysis. He would have to make an instant decision about which animal to pursue, than act on that decision without a second thought. The second aspect of impulsivity is impatience. For a primitive farmer, however, impatience and impulsivity would spell disaster. If he were to go out into the field and dig up the seeds every day to see if they were growing, the crops would die. (A contemporary manifestation of this is the person who can't leave the oven door shut, but has to keep opening it to check how the food's doing, to the detriment of many a soufflé.) Restlessness Risk-taking, or, as Dr. Edward Hallowell and Dr. John Ratey describe it in their book Driven to Distraction, "a restive search for high stimulation," is perhaps the most destructive of the behaviors associated with ADHD in contemporary society. It probably accounts for the high percentage of people with ADHD among prison populations, and plays a role in a wide variety of social problems, from the risky driving of a teenager to the infidelity or job-hopping of an adult. Yet for a primitive hunter, risk and high-stimulation were a necessary part of daily life. If a hunter were risk- or adrenaline-adverse, he'd never go into the wilds to hunt. For a hunter, the idea of daily risking his life would have felt "normal." In fact, the urge to experience risk, the desire for that adrenaline high, would have been necessary among the members of a hunting society, because it would have propelled their members out into the forest or jungle in search of stimulation and dinner.

    Condensed from ~ The Edison Gene

    Its nice to see a postive outlook. And research supported by a variety of medical specialists.

    T-Bird made this observation last night, "You're an ADD Scorpion Empath. No wonder your life is hell." (Is that the same thing as an INFP?) My life is not hell. I'm just beginning to understand my complexities and how my biological and emotional traits feed off of one another. I'm settling down in my own skin, so to speak. Embracing those things which I have been told were "bad" or "abnormal." Seeing those things which were once liabilities as strengths.

    Speaking of INFPs... I saw a comment from a fellow INFP that said, "My mind never sleeps and I don't understand why people just don't get it!" I get it.

    Here's a question... If only 3-20% of the population (depending on whose numbers you use) have the combination of genes which lead to ADD/ADHD, and INFPs account for about 4.4% of the popluation, what are the chances that those having ADD/ADHD traits and those having INFP traits are the same?

    If you care to take part in my non-scientific study, please do so.

    The Bloginality test is here. If you already know your personality type then you're ahead of the game.

    The Jung typology test is here.

    Symptoms associated with ADD/ADHD are here. Or do you or others see you more often as:

    Enthusiastic Creative Disorganized Non-linear in their thinking (they leap to new conclusions or observations) Innovative Easily distracted (or, to put it differently, easily attracted to new stimuli) Capable of extraordinary hyperfocus Understanding of what it means to be an "outsider" Determined Eccentric Easily bored Impulsive Entrepreneurial Energetic

    If you would like a copy of the Thom Hartmann's e-mail, e-mail me here.

    Otherwise, leave a message at the sound of the tone and I'll get back to you. *Beeeeeeeep*

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    Friday, February 11, 2005

    Me? Petty and Vindictive?

    Yeah. Got a problem with it? Tell a mammal that cares. I'm going to wrap this up. I'm tired of thinking of SD... he's really not worth this much effort. Nate has GLOWING reports from school today and tomorrow he gets to spend time with the teacher by himself or rather, very few kids in the class, as its some kind of teacher day. Yeah, he has to be there in oh... 6 1/2 hours. So, the locket. I'll try to make this as short and sweet as possible but damnit, its just one of my favorite memories, for many reasons. In January, 1995, SD went to Atlanta for polygraph school. (Ha! SD giving polygraphs... bwahahhahhaa) Sorry... ahem. And I, of course, put my new found freedom to good use. I went to AZ's bar. He used to own half interest and I would go there and hang out. The bartender (and co-owner) knew I was a friend of AZ's and just so happens that one night while SD was out of town they needed a waitress. So, I waitressed. AZ came in at one point and then had to leave to cut commercials so he asked me after the bar closed to stop by the radio station. Once Mike and I pushed all the drunks out the door etc. etc. we relaxed a bit. Mike was a good looking guy. Arab. Hot. Very hot. We laid down on the pool table together but not touching and we talked and we acknowledged that we were attracted to each other and then agreed, nah, we're not going to do anything about it. He had a girlfriend and I had... SD. I told Mike that I needed to get to the radio station because AZ had asked me to stop. "No, no, no, you can't do that." Why not? "Because I have to go to the radio station and then he'll know we've been here alone all this time." So? "He's not going to like that. He's not going to like that at all." Whaaa?? Bullshit. He's not jealous. Besides, he knows if I'm going to cheat on SD, it will be with him. AND.. he also has a girlfriend. "No, please don't go down there. Please!" Geeez... okay! I went home. Next day, about 7 p.m., the phone rang. It was AZ. "Hey, what's up?" What happened between you and Mike last night? *mouth drops open* "Nothing!" Nothing, huh? NO. And if he said anything happened he's lying! I went on to tell him everything that happened, finishing with... "I told him he was being ridiculous, that you weren't going to be jealous and you should know if I'm going to cheat... blah, blah, blah." What makes you think I'm not jealous? *gulp* (Whaa?) "Ummm... because you never act jealous." Just because I don't act jealous doesn't mean I'm not. *squeezes eyes together, scrunches up face* "Uhhhh... okay." *Looks at the sky with a questioning look* He asked me if I could work that night, which I said I would. Blah, blah, blah. I worked. The three of us worked. Me, AZ, and Mike. And when the bar closed, I left with AZ. We went to the radio station I believe but I definitely know that we were in his car at the post office, where he convinced me, in a not so subtle way, that I really wanted to spend some "quality" time with him. Now remember, he's seeing the woman who eventually become his fiance and then ex-fiance and I was seeing SD. What's a girl to do? Say yes, of course. This is where the locket comes in. (I said comes... ahem, that'll make more sense in a few) The locket I wore, was heart-shaped with fancy scrolls on it. It had been a gift from SD. I'm pretty sure that AZ knew who that locket was from. He notices things like that and in the midst of our "quality" time... things got a little... messy. Damn, if its not hard to clean out the nooks and crannies and crevices of a locket. I swear I think he did it on purpose. It was really hard to clean. (That locket was to me, what Monica's blue dress was to her.) Anytime after that when SD would piss me off, I would crack open that locket... remember... and smile a devious smile. After what happened with SD, that locket came to mind. I know I took it off a long, long time ago... probably before SD and I split for good. It suddenly dawned on me that given the animosity between SD and AZ (as in, they hate each other) that... wouldn't it be glowing revenge to "let it slip" how glad I was I had fucked around on him? I wouldn't even need to tell him who it was with. He would know it was AZ. I could hope he would have a stroke. (Yes, after all these years, SD would still throw a screaming hissy if he knew I was unfaithful to him, even though he was being unfaithful at the time and not just to his wife.) Alas... its not like AZ can't be found. He can be and although he may welcome the thought of confronting SD and in rich, intimate detail explaining exactly what it was he did to me and the locket, I won't put him in that position. (If you think SD wouldn't... give him some liquid courage and he would.) So, between you and me and AZ... we know and its enough.
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    Thursday, February 10, 2005

    The Real Me

    SD called me back yesterday. And jumped my shit and down my throat. I had learned a long time ago to not let him get to me. Its his way of controlling me. I know this. But he caught me tired, sick, and distracted. He struck when the iron was hot. I'm sure he would like you all to know what kind of person I really am... so here it is. 1. I'm lazy and sloven. 2. I'm making Nate my slave. 3. I'm just like my mother. 4. The only reason Nate is on medication is because I don't want to discipline him. 5. I took away his right to discipline Nate. Other things: Giving Nate responsibility and the opportunity to earn money by cleaning out the litterboxes , taking out the garbage, and putting food and water down for the cats is just me being lazy. No son of his should ever pick up cat shit. I should cater to his every whim while still teaching him the value of a dollar earned. He should have no responsibility yet learn responsibility and respect. The only good discipline is a beating. He's watching my house and he's going to call Child Protective Services if he ever hears of his son being forced to clean out the litterboxes to earn extra money. I'm not paying him enough. (Obviously I'm a cheap slave driver as well.) And what did I do? I lost it. If I could have gotten through the phone, I'd be blogging from jail. No doubt in my mind. Its not the first time that I've allowed him to get to me. But it is the first time I've allowed it to this extend. I had to close the door to my office... right before I bellowed, "SHUT. UP!" That coming from the fact that everytime I tried to say something he would just talk over top of me. Other times that this has happened, I just go to the alley and I smoke and I pace and I cuss, I call AZ sometimes. I was well beyond that today. I gathered the papers that I needed to fax, turned off my computer, put my coat on, and headed out. My esteemed colleagues, including my office manager, were all standing by the copier/scanner/fax machine. I'm sure they heard more than enough through the walls. Sissy looked at me and started to ask, "Are you okay?'' I'm sure she meant to but it died out somewhere around "o." Her eyes were wide. I've been told I can be quite intimidating when I'm really mad. I wasn't really mad. I was in a blinding rage. I barely remember faxing my papers. I just know that I said, "I have to go," and I left. No one tried to stop me. No one asked if I was coming back. No one said anything. Hopefully, I'll have a job tomorrow. I normally don't stand up and walk out on my job at 2:15 in the afternoon. Either my boss will be extremely upset with me, somewhat irritated, or he'll want all the good gossip. You just never know with him. I really, really hope I have a job tomorrow. Its amazing what a situation like this will bring up in you. All those onion layers you thought were discarded. I hated myself. And I hated myself more, because I hated myself. My self-esteem hangs by a fragile thread. I am well aware of my faults yet to have someone drown you in them is an entirely different matter. Not that I didn't try to have my say but it escalated so quickly, I wasn't able to get a handle on it. I went from 0 to a thousand in two minutes. I know why he did it. It was to make himself feel better. I mean, how dare I question him as to what the hell happened over the weekend? How dare I tell him that I disagreed with his GF's "discipline." How dare I??? He brought up things that happened between three and five years ago. You know, how I dared to take Nate away from him when I had photographic proof of his handprint bruised on Nate's ass. I mean how dare I? Yeah, I'm a slob. I never throw anything away. I have enough papers in my house to feed a bonfire for a week, maybe two. Yeah, I've had a sick cat who hasn't made it to the litterbox in time more than once in the past two weeks so yeah, we've had some nasty surprises that I've had to clean up. (He's dying guys. He was eating and how he's stopped again. He won't even eat canned food.) I'm lazy as I can be. I mean, I sat on my ass on the couch today beside of Nate while he completed 29 pages of past due work. I suppose I should have just walked back to my filthy kitchen and started cleaning again, not worrying about whether or not he got it done. Not to mention, Nate asked that I stay with him. Even as I was going through a pile of papers in the same room, it just wasn't the same... he needed me beside of him. Guilty as charged. Yep... I sat on my ass after I put Nate to bed and made out 23 Valentine's cards (the one's I bought) and counted out 23 suckers (the one's I bought) because Nate didn't have time. I also made his Valentine holder because, yep, he didn't get it done at school because he hadn't got his other work done. I told him I would because I wanted him to work on the important stuff. Guilty man, guilty as fucking sin. So, there you have it. My house is a disaster area. I'm a lazy cunt who wants to turn my son into a slave. I never discipline him so I put him on medication. Yeah. Tomorrow I'll tell you about the locket.
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    Wednesday, February 09, 2005

    I am so *groan* ill

    * This gets really sexually explicit near the bottom. Remember "Anything Goes"* By Sunday afternoon, I had a roaring headache which I took four ibuprofen for and laid in the bed. Last night it returned with a vengeance. I went home and laid down, hoping to sleep it off but Nate wouldn't allow that. Then I thought perhaps when I had something to eat that would help it out as well. Nope. If anything the flourescent lighting at IHOP just made it worse. I was lucky to make it home without throwing up. Ye Olde Migraine. I hate those bitches. I'm still groggy this morning and my stomach still feels yucky. Real yucky. Although I did eat something to see if it would settle down. Nate has done a complete 180 from where we were last week. Now, Sperm Donor wants to blame me for Nate being, what he described as, "whiny and wild" all weekend. And, of course, I want to blame Sperm Donor for whatever happened to the child I was working with last week. 1-8-0. Nate had a lot of homework to do last night and wormed around, lied and got his butt busted. I swear he turned around and mentally gave me the middle finger. I'm not a tapper. He had deliberately disobeyed me and I lit him up. He didn't cry, he just turned and looked at me. Now, forgive me but I KNOW SOMETHING IS WRONG!!! Something. Is. Wrong. So, I just got off the phone with Sperm Donor. Seems as though his girlfriend took the kids to see "The Boogeyman." What the fuck did she think she was doing? That's like Freddy Krueger and Nightmare on Elm Street which scared the shit out of me when I was 14, much less EIGHT!!! Then he decides to tell me that Nate had been acting up when his girlfriend took him and Aimee out and when they got in the car, Nate got pissed because the GF let Aimee sit up front and he started kicking the seat. And what does the GF do? She threatens to cut off my son's fingers and toes which then makes him cry. Is this how this woman raised her own children? I mean, how effective is that? You might scare the crap out of him but... how effective is that of being a deterrent to bad behavior? In order for it to be effective she would have to cut off his fingers and toes!!! Which I would kill her for. And Sperm Donor doesn't believe there is any type of discipline but a good beating. I generally jumped down his throat and told him how ignorant she is and how if she can't effectively discipline Nate then she doesn't need to be alone with him. FURTHERMORE, she made such a piss poor decision as to what movie was appropriate for him to watch, that its no wonder the child has been tossing, turning, kicking, moaning and groaning in the bed. He got up Monday morning looking like someone had socked him in both eyes. All the work I did to get him to bed at a decent hour, laying down and going to sleep by himself??? OUT THE DOOR! Start over. Sorry Mommy, back to square one... better yet, start at a deficit. Sperm donor said he was NOT HAPPY that she let him see that movie nor what she said to him. Now, I know why she told him what she had said to Nate. She was afraid that either, Aimee would tell her mom who would then call me (she just loves getting SD in trouble, not that he doesn't do a fine job of that by himself) or she was afraid that Nate would tell me. Which he has yet to do.... He ran over boundaries all weekend with no true consequences. I told SD that the GF needs to establish boundaries with real consequences. It doesn't mean he has to be beat into submission but he needs to realize there are CONSEQUENCES. Last night, I lost my temper and yelled at him. I've learned that the calmer I am, the more likely he is to listen and do what I tell him. If he knows he's upsetting me, well, then he's accomplished his goal. His goal is to upset me to the point where he gets his way. He didn't get his way but he succeeded in upsetting me. Of course, that's not hard to do when I feel like the top of my head is going to explode and I'm going to puke all over the place. It doesn't do any good to sit around and be mad at SD and the GF. It doesn't do any good to feel sorry for myself that I don't have a stronger in-house support system. I can't allow myself to lose control. I HAVE to stay calm. I have to. I. AM. IT. Although I can't help but think if I was getting fucked hot and hard every other day... okay, every day... no, no, twice a day, that somehow this would be easier to bear. Having a dick at my disposal to take my frustrations out on would be, at this point, heaven. The more stressed I get, the more I want it. The more tired, frustrated, pissed off, and angry I am, the more I want it, the more I crave a man's hands on my body and hot, urgent kisses. Where a mere breath breathed on my neck is enough to make every nerve tingle, where I want my body bit and sucked on, as though drawing poison out of it. Where he has to put one arm around my shoulders and one hand on my ass because he's fucking me so hard and we're so sweaty that he's afraid he'll fuck me right off the bed. And release... sweet release... the sheet-ripping, toe-curling, back-arching, breath-catching release. The sliding-down-his-body, licking-sweat-as-you-go-until-he's-straddling-your-shoulders, taking him in your mouth, hands on his ass pulling him deeper inside, his hands in your hair, holding your face both tenderly and savagely with him inside of you, and you watch his muscles tremble, his eyes close... his head falling back as he gives himself over to the release. You're watching it and feeling it and tasting it. Its power and love and lust and hate and anger and understanding connectivity passion greed ambition pleasure and pain kaleidoscope cacaphony spiritual earthly heaven and hell I WANT THAT
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    Tuesday, February 08, 2005

    There Are No "Get Out of Purgatory Free" Cards

    Thank you all so much for your outpouring of support, love, and friendship. It means the world to me. Although, I'm quite upset that so many of you can relate. I hate that more than you'll ever know. No one should be so tortured. I bet I brought up bittersweet memories. Maybe this will make you feel a little better. If you think I'm honest here, imagine how honest I am with someone I've known for 13 years. Imagine you reading my blog for 13 years. Imagine the things you would know about me. Imagine the things we would share. Imagine what I would know about you. Does it make you feel vulnerable? Does it make it you a little frightened to cross someone who knows you so well? And I do say that with a bit of maliciousness and bitterness. I'm not going to sit here and say, "this doesn't bother me a bit." Because I would be lying. It does bother me. And more than a bit. But don't think he gets away with it. He knows exactly what he does to me. He knows exactly how to draw me to him like a moth to the flame. I'm very sensitive to his moods, which are many. He feeds my sixth sense like a hungry baby bird. Its the "look over the left shoulder" phenomena. I'll be sitting at work minding my own damn business when I'll look up at the window on the atrium and see my reflection, look over my left shoulder, and then just pick the phone up and dial. Today though, I had a reason to call as my boss is interested in some property. The business part of our call lasted three minutes. The rest of the call lasted 37. He was stewing in his own juices when I rang him up. Angry. Exhausted. Pissed. Perturbed. Disgusted. Sullen. A cross-section of our conversation: I: So, how are ya today? A: I'm exhausted and fucking pissed off. (growled) I: What happened? A: Stupid fucking people. I'm so fucking exhausted. (sullen) I: What happened AZ? A: *sigh* Remember I had that wide screen TV to give away? I: Yup. A: It got locked in (name of bar) when they shut it down and I paid, out of my own fucking pocket, to get it out of there. I wanted the people that had already qualified to win it to still have the opportunity. I: No way! It got locked up with the other stuff? A: Yup, and I had to pay to get it hauled out of there too. I: Shit. A: And because I'm such a fucking nice guy I ended up with one guy laughing obnoxiously in one ear (imitates obnoxious laughing) and one guy trying to get me to give him free shit all night. (Imitates guy: "Hey man, I know ya got some stuff, why can't ya give me some stuff.") I: *snort* *giggle* A: So *snort* I look over at the laughing guy and I see my fork imbedded in his eyeball. I: *laughing* *snort* *cough* *snort* *laughing* A: But then I had to blink... and it was gone (fake sadness). I: *laughing* *cough* ahem... 'scuse me. A: And then I looked over and the other guy is laying on the floor, his head twisted around like the Exorcist. I: *belly laugh* A: And then I had to blink again *sniff* *sniff* I: Bwhahahhahaahahahahahahahahahaahahaha A: Hahahhahhahahhahahahahahaha... hee hee hee. *wicked evil laughter* I: *laughing* *snort* *gasp* A: I was having so much more fun until I blinked. (fake sadness) Then we both laughed and went on to talk about other things. I"m digressing because now I'm so exhausted. For better or worse... I still have contact with him. And because of that contact I have the opportunity to tell him how I feel. Like I wrote above, if you think I'm honest here, its nothing compared to what I write to him. Matter of fact, I put in my latest letter part of what I wrote in my blog yesterday... the malaria part and the paragraph before that about the self-torture. See, there are no "get out of purgatory free" cards here. My purgatory is his purgatory, meant viciously or not. We have finally gotten to the point where we have dialogue about it at times. I find myself much, much stronger and straight forward when given the opportunity than I used to be. I used to be very tongue-tied over things like this in the past and when I come out with shit in conversation I can tell it rocks him back a little. I find that talking to someone is an excellent way to communicate and not nearly as frightening as I always believed. Then again, I guess it depends on who's on the other end of the conversation. I contemplated, once again, just breaking all communication with him and telling him exactly why. Or just not telling him, which is the cowards way out. The thing is, I'm not sure what would make me more miserable, not talking to him or continuing to talk to him. That is something I will have to address with him. Soon. He's not the kind of person to say, "Do what you gotta do," and walk away. Well, he is, but not to me. Unfortunately (Fortunately? Unfortunately?) neither of us really have that ability with each other. I'm reminded of something that happened a long time ago. Probably in the first year to year and a half that we knew each other. We were laying in the bed. He was on his back and I was curled up next to him since its always arctic cold when we sleep (whether together or separately) and I was just drifting off when he ran his hand up my back and he said, "Hey." I raised my head and looked at him but he didn't look at me. "Know what I did the other day?" "No, what?" "I went through my address book and I erased people right out of my life." That sent a chill right up my spine. The finality of his words. "Oh." "But when I got your name, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make myself erase you," and then he looked at me and I saw anger and pain in his eyes, and then they softened. I don't remember what I said, but I do know I probably kissed him and ran my hand down his chest. Then I would have turned over and he would have pulled me flush against him, draping his left arm over my waist, our hands intertwined and tucked between my breasts as we slept. Its okay AZ. I can't make myself erase you either.
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    Sunday, February 06, 2005

    Sometimes I forget that this is my diary and I have a right to put anything in here. I'm honored that people stop by to read my thoughts and feelings, sorrows, troubles, and triumphs and leave bits of wisdom and encouragement. Lately I really haven't felt much like blogging. I've felt like writing just not here. I've had a "blog" for years. With just one reader. That reader is AZ. I miss writing to him. I'm very aware that in little over a week, we will have known each other 13 years. It's been an honor and its been purgatory. On December the 15th, I posted about my realization that we're just going in different directions. I really hate that. I really hate it that I care that I hate that. No matter how much I know I won't and can't save him or fix him, I very much want him to catch up to me. I'm having a lot of trouble pinpointing exactly how I do feel. I just ... miss him. I miss him a lot. But why? Can I tell you what an asshole he is? A jerk? A workaholic? Yeah, I could. I've got enough ammunition. But that's not what he is to me. That's what he wants everybody to think. Its a survival mechanism. No, not everyone thinks he's a jerk and an asshole, they think he's a swell guy. And he is. He can be. He's so complex though. I really hate anniversaries. And number 13 to boot. Maybe it'll be a lucky one. I brought home a yellow legal pad and a super fine point pen. Black. That's what I'm writing his letter on. I've written a lot of letters on yellow legal paper. I'm sure half a dozen or more to AZ. I like watching my hand form letters on the page. I've put it off and put it off since I got home because... I keep trying to think of what to say, knowing I should just start with, 'Dear AZ' and the rest will work itself out. Maybe more than anything I'm afraid of what I will write, and worse, how I will feel. Dear G-d, it couldn't be any worse than the funk I've been walking around in. Well... yeah, I guess it could. Do you know what its like to look at yourself in the mirror and say, "Stop it!" And to fight your feelings as hard as you can? I do. I know it very well. Have you sat at your desk and buried your hands in your hair and begged yourself to stop torturing yourself? I just did. I'm so sick of this! He's like fucking malaria!! Can't get rid of him!!! And I go along, and I'm doing so good and then BOOM, one little thing. ONE. LITTLE. THING. HOW CAN ONE LITTLE THING HAVE SUCH AN EFFECT ON ME? I'm stronger than this. I guess that fucking onion still needs peeled some more. I just want to chop the onion up and eat it on a hotdog. Sick of the onion. That little thing... was his girlfriend. He said she doesn't complain because he works so much. Doesn't give him a hard time. G-ddamn that pissed me off... They've been dating for three fucking years!!! Does she not understand why he works so much???? He's trying to put himself in the grave early because he is so fucking miserable! I know its not my problem or even my business. But it is. Because I love him. I'm kind of used him being around. He never gave up on me. And I know if I ever need anything, he'll be there. I just can't turn away from that. I'm so scared though. I'm scared he's going to die. His dad died when he was 52 and his dad's brothers died young. Probably what upsets me most, just slightly less than losing him, is that my hands are completely tied. It makes no difference what role I take in his life. My hands are tied. That's a pretty hopeless feeling. Fuck. I hope he remembers what I asked him about Nana. What if he got her genes instead of his dad's? She'll be 92 this year... March, I think. Would serve his ass right. Fuck. I can't change it anyway but G-d it feels good to bitch about it. Eye of the Tiger Risin' up, back on the street Did my time, took my chances Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet Just a man and his will to survive So many times, it happens too fast You trade your passion for glory Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past You must fight just to keep them alive It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight Risin' up to the challenge of our rival And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night And he's watchin' us all with the eye of the tiger ~ Survivor Charisma Is it my fortune or my fame Is it my money or my name Is it my personality Or just my sexuality, yeah, yeah What is my charisma What is my charisma, yeah Is it my body or my brain Do I drive you insane, ha Is it the power of my touch Do you need me too much, too much, too much Am I the master of your soul Do you lose all control, ha Is it my fire or my flame Do I drive you insane, charisma ~ KISS Well... a shitty recording of a shitty recording of "Charisma," jusss cuz I want's to.
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    Friday, February 04, 2005

    Up, Down and Around

    The Natester Nate had a 'bad' day at school yesterday. He brought home math and science and is still behind on AR points. He said he only got one sheet of his reading comprehension done. *Sigh* I asked why and he said, "I just can't do it." I said, "'Can't never could' but let's move on to your homework." I asked him about the math. He said, "I was dawdling." I hate that word with a passion. My mom used that word many, many times in my childhood. I asked him who had said that to him and he just said, "It was one of our spelling words one time." So he attaches it to himself.... I don't like that. I have found that if Nate gets stuck on a problem then he stays stuck. He was having trouble half-way through his math and I asked him if he knew what the ones below it were and he said he did. I said, do the ones you know first, then come back to the other ones, just make sure you leave space for your answer. Oh. This way... you get all the ones you know done and then have time to go back to the harder ones. What the poor kid was doing was not being able to do a certain problem and sitting there and sitting there, not moving on, not asking the teacher. No wonder he's not getting anything done. Same thing with reading comprehension. Nate hates to write (he didn't get that from me obviously). What he's doing is answering some questions on his worksheets then coming up against a lot of writing and stalls out. I told him to do all the multiple choice/fill in the bubble/fill in the blank parts and then come back to the writing so he gets more done and has the time left to write his sentences. Oh. Afterwards, he comes into the computer room and says, "You know, that math and science wasn't as hard as I thought it would be." Hmmm... so he thought it was too hard so he's not even been trying??? Yes? No? Even later as we got ready for bed I was trying to put in his little brain what I had said earlier about doing the problems he knows and then I said, "See, you can do reading comprehension just fine." "No, I can't Mom." "You just did Nate." "No, I didn't." "Yes, you did. You read your Science book and answered questions. That's reading comprehension." "Nuh uh!" "Uh huh!" "No, its not." "Yes. It. Is. You read something in a book. You answer questions. That's reading comprehension. If you can't understand what you read you can't answer the questions. You read your science, all about mammals, reptiles, amphibians, and birds and then you answered questions. THATS reading comprehension. It just happened to be science." Silence. *Wheels turning over and over in his little mind* (Hopefully) And then Sperm Donor happens to call. (Let's all dance a jig.) He asked how Nate was doing in school so I told him. I told him about Nate's troubles and what he and I had talked about etc. When I finished he said, "I'll see you later," and hung up. This makes the 2nd time he's done that in the past two weeks. If I don't just say, "He's doing great!" then he doesn't want to hear it and he definitely doesn't want to take any responsibility for helping Nate to work through it and do better. He just expects to look at Nate and say, "Do better or else," and Nate is supposed to do it. Right. AZ AZ was featured in the Life & Style section of our local newspaper on Sunday. My mother actually called me and told me about it. Since it was a few degrees above freezing, Nate and I walked the mile round trip from our house to the local convenience store for coffee, hot cocoa, cigarettes, a newspaper and then swung through Tudor's on the way back for biscuits. It was nice to get out in the crisp air. It was funny reading the article about someone I know so well. Then putting the paper down and shaking my head. I resisted calling him until Monday to let him know I had seen the article and wondered why he hadn't told the writer what a cesspool he thought the world was and how miserable his existence in it is. He chuckled when I said that and remarked, "I was trying to keep it positive." I had actually done an entire post on the people we find behind the faces we see around us but it turned into something else so I just put it in draft. My receptionist also kept a copy of the article and gave it to me so I offered it to him since I knew he would want to send one to his Mom, brother, Nana, aunt etc. He said he would appreciate it and I told him I would drop it off at either the print shop, the real estate office, or drop it in the mail, but he said he would just swing by and pick it up. *Raised eyebrow* *quizzical look* M'kay. Stupid People Clients of mine drive for two hours yesterday to pick up a settlement check for one of them... without calling first or waiting for my call... which is what I told them to do. Then I have to scramble to get the checks written and have an attorney sign them. Luckily, I had an attorney available. Then they come back because the bank won't cash the check because the guy's ID is expired and has been expired for TEN YEARS!!! (Yes, he is mentally handicapped but still...). I tell them to get him another ID. They come back this morning, again without calling. They tell me they can't get the ID right away because of they have to send off to Richmond, VA for a birth certificate (how is this my problem?) They don't want to deposit in someone else's account because then it will take 10 days to clear (how is this my problem?) So they want me to walk them down to the bank and get CASH. NO FUCKING WAY... if it was $3000.00 maybe, but not $9000.00 without my boss's express consent. And, so sorry, but my boss is not here and won't be here until later this afternoon. Should have called first. The office manager and I had a long discussion and she went out to break the bad news. I suppose I'll see them again in a few hours when they think the big boss will be here. Whatever. Going to work this Saturday... make sure everything is in line for trial on Monday. If I don't see ya, have a good weekend.
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    Thursday, February 03, 2005

    My Son is Hilarious!

    Teacher wrote a big note that said, "Good Day!" on it. He told me that after last night (when I made him re-do his stuff) that he was sooooo much better. Go figure. Anyway... he cracks me up. I have a hand-held micro-cassette recorder which I purchased in early 2000 before going to my current job. I bought it to catch the sleazy boss who called me week before last on tape should I ever become so emotionally distraught that I quit and would need it for evidence of a hostile work environment. Also in case I wanted to sue for sexual harrassment. Uh, yeah, I'm sneaky that way. So, now Nate plays with it and has come up with this thing where he will tape something from a movie and then he'll rewind and play and then tape again something, like him singing like a cat, and then he'll stop and rewind and see how it fits in with the movie stuff he already put on there. I can hear him going around singing and talking into the recorder and then I hear the VCR being rewound and then played and when he has his finished product he comes and plays it for me. I'm not sure if its luck of the draw or if he's really that good that he can get all of this shit to work out and actually come up with something. Since its almost four in the morning and there's no chance of him catching me, I decided I would share some of it with you guys. I proudly present... Nate and Friends.
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    Wednesday, February 02, 2005

    Headache

    I got one. I just twisted my neck and it popped in five or six different places. Nate came home with another "F" yesterday and I made him sit down and re-do the paper. He did very well... for about 20 minutes and then he just wandered off in his mind somewhere. Yet in that 20 minutes he was able to accomplish a lot of work. He also "forgot" his math assignment which I found under his tray at school this morning. Luckily, I had the other four math assignments he "forgot" in my car and he had to do it anyway. We sat down last night and pulled up the AR book list. For those not familiar, AR means "accelerated reader." The kids have to read books which are assigned a grade and point level. Nate has to have so many points per nine weeks. His teacher told me this morning he is already behind for this nine weeks. If he reads "Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator" he will be caught up (its 5 points.) I used to have "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" but I don't know where it is, naturally. We did find a great number of AR books in my house last night. Two "Nate the Great" books, a "Junie B. Jones", "Call of the Wild," which Nate was very interested in. He was more interested in reading, "Kidnapped" instead of "Treasure Island" and naturally all I have is "Treasure Island." "Robin Hood," "Harry Potter and (fill in the blank)," "The Hobbit," and the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy (which I can barely muddle through), "Bridge to Terabithia," "The Black Cauldron," and "The Book of Three," (all of which I can't find but know I put out for Nate to read at one point.) My mom has all of my "Little House on the Prairie" books. I think I'll run down and pick up "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" at lunch. Its also worth 5 points and I think its something he would enjoy. I thought he would also enjoy "Tales of Fourth Grade Nothing" and "Superfudge," since he's, hopefully, going to fourth grade next year. I've spent a lot of money on books in the past week.... more than I can afford. So, while Nate worked on his reading comprehension last night, I worked on a file from the office and we "raced." I won because I actually finished. I timed him on 20 math problems... took him under two minutes, yet took him 2 hours to finish the other 80. Go figure. Alas, my mother again. She called to tell me something, oh, that my brother is leaving the 15th of February for Alabama. Then she asked for my new e-mail address since I rarely check the address she has. I gave her my "inanna1121" address. Then I had to explain the significance of Inanna. She understood the whole "Goddess of War" thing and the lion/cat connection but then she asked, "Oh, is that your blogger name?" NO. Its not my blogger name. You just shouldn't mess around in shit that is none of your business. Regardless of how much I love my mom, we see eye to eye on virtually nothing. If we do agree on it, we don't agree on how to do it or how to get there. My German mother "accidentally" read my diary once and got her feelings hurt severely. If I wanted her to look inside my mind I would give her the URL and put an ambulance on stand-by. I've been thinking of pushing for charter school legislation in WV. There is none right now and I would like to start a charter school more geared toward ADHD/ADD/Exceptional students. We're not doing enough for these types of kids. I've even thought of going back to college for my teaching degree. That's what I orginially started out in was education. Since my goal after Nate gets older is TEFL (teaching English as a foreign language), why not just do it now. Work is kicking my ass and it hurts.
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