Pieces

Is there a reason I should keep anyone I don't like, or even dislike in my life?  Can someone answer that for me?  One good reason is all i'm looking for because this seems to be a flaw of mine- this not associating with people I don't like (and who don't like me)  Yes, i'm an adult, yes, i am socially mature and can be in a room with someone I don't care for and not feel like i need to give them the short list of why they are distasteful to me, EVEN when alcohol may be involved.  I'm not a complete mutant.  Even if i did like you at one point and now no longer do.

It takes a lot for me to give up on someone.  Maybe it's because i'm flawed, and because i don't want to be abandoned because i'm not perfect. I have a really high tolerance for flawed individuals (translation "everyone")    "Perfect" people do not exist.  People who think they are perfect are the ones that I end up cutting loose - they make me uncomfortable, and the make me feel bad about myself- plus, they are no fun.  It's hard to be genuine when you are busy being perfect.  Making yourself vulnerable takes some humility and risk for mistakes.  Opening your heart to someone is extremely risky, and also, one of the great reasons for living.  

So what if not everyone knows that.  It's okay.  Someday the lightening bolt will strike and they will realize that all the acquiring and judging  and status seeking they have been taking part in and expecting to make them feel whole was not  the point.  Has never been the point.  Maybe there will be regret and that is also not the point and a huge waste of time better spent elsewhere.  To me, it's where they are at in their lives and for them it is right.  It is not my way, but that doesn't make it wrong- for them.  

I'm talking about very personal levels here, not global or even community.  I'm talking about me and you and that person over there.  

If you hurt me I don't forget it.  This is probably one of my greatest flaws.  It's not that I don't forgive, or move on.  I just never forget how I felt.  When a lot of those "i feel like shit around you" feelings build up they eventually add up to "I don't want you in my life".   My feelings are something i'm intimate with, I don't avoid them or lie about them or let them run wild without questioning them.  I search my soul and ask "why does this bother me?" and then- I move on.  

Sometimes someone will hit a nerve with me and I will identify almost immediately that it's not their fault i don't like them, it's my baggage.  Knowing this doesn't make it feel any nicer but at least I know I'm participating in the negative vibe- it's not that person alone.  Whew, and man do i have baggage.  Thing is, it's all neatly tagged so it's easy for me to identify.  That journey of identifying and tagging was unpleasant and completely necessary.  "mine, mine, mine.....nope, not owning that shit"  I'm very well aware when it's me and a lot of times, it is.  But not always.  

People who have been dismissed from my life, through their own actions have-

Abandoned me to fend for myself as a teenager- That's not mine.

Cut me out of their life because someone with more money made them choose - That's not mine.

Expected me to participate in their self destruction- That's not mine

Been aggressive and verbally abusive with me - That's not mine.

Hurt the people i love by constantly putting them down to elevate yourself - That's not mine.

That's actually a pretty short list to have acquired over my lifetime.  Maybe i'm not so flawed. huh.

I wish people who were constantly comparing themselves to others as a way to measure their own worth would take that journey as well.  Own your history and the part you played in it and make your choices based on what you want your future to be.  That is not a difficult concept.  The action.....that may be harder.  But the choice.  That's not hard.  

As long as we blame other people for our shitty feelings we are giving away any power we have over our own lives.  And that power is so limited as it is.  Why would anyone feel superior in blaming everyone else for how they feel?  It's such an oxymoron. 

When i've had enough of feeling like shit around you, i cut you loose.  I don't negotiate, I don't look back.  I move on.  And yes, it happens abruptly but i'm sure it's never a surprise.  It's a long time coming.  You know.  You can't not know.  I'm not referring to people who have grown out of my life, which is a naturally occurring phase with no hard feelings and often times quite pleasant memories.  I'm talking about removing someone like they are cancer cells. Because, to me, that's exactly what they are.  Maybe they are hearts and flowers to you and that's good for you.  To me, they are poison.  Bye Bye.  

50 Shades of oh please not again

The other day I found myself in yet another conversation about why I did not enjoy the first two 50 Shades of Grey books.  This old and tired topic keeps coming up even now, and  people seem so mystified that I thought the books were utter shit.  Utter.  Shit. (Just in case i need to make my opinion any clearer.)  I think the majority of people are aware of what the stories are about even if they haven't suffered through reading them.  And i did try.  I read the first one and thought "okay, that was really bad" and then i reasoned with myself "but everyone loves this, maybe i should try the second book" which i did, and that's when i said "this is the reason you hate reading books everyone else loves" because then i feel like the odd man out, hating what everyone loves. What is wrong with me?  Why don't i like this?  It just brings up all my insecurities.........no.....really.  Please insert a dramatic eye roll here.  I could care less if everyone is reading this crap.  Everyone except maybe young impressionable/gullible women. 

I hate the books because of the abuse. I'm referring to the emotional mind fuck that everyone seems so intent on calling "love".  Nothing like a  young  woman getting involved with an older damaged male (who happens to have a butt ton of money which makes everything excusable) who just needs her love to "change him".  If you have ever been in, or know someone who has been in an abusive relationship- you aren't going to find these books entertaining.  I read this young woman's article and so much of it had me yelling "Yes!" that i have to share it here and i would like you to read it before arguing further with me about how wonderful these books are. 

5 Reasons "Jessica Jones" Is Way Darker Than You Realize

 This isn't to say I don't enjoy a  well timed slap on the ass - I mean, who doesn't? 

 

This rant isn't about me passing judgement on what you or anyone else does in privacy (or public if that's your thang).  I'm all about two or more consenting adults doing whatever rocks their world.  Have at it.  What i take offense to, and what i'm so concerned about is the mass production of shitty books that have women everywhere mooning over a damaged, abusive male who is "saved" by the love of a woman.  That's not a healthy, or real situation to be promoting for the next generation.  If you are a grown ass woman and you feel like this is entertainment, fine.  You have the life experience to tell you that this is FICTION and that in no way would this shit fly in real life without damaging results.  But these younger women coming up behind us?  The ones we are supposed to be setting an example for, and giving a leg up to?  This is our gift to them?  "Here, read this!  It's SOOO romantic!!" No. No.NO. This isn't what we aspire to ladies.  

The one positive thing i have to say is that I did laugh at her internal dialog.  The one that should have screamed at her to get a restraining order and go date a nice boy who had a gun license. Wait that's a different blog.  Anyways, go date and fall in love with a non-fucked up male who you don't have to #1. Fix or #2. Raise. 

Do you want to read books about S & M? You like the bondage scene? Well read something that is actually well written and responsible. I have recommendations for you.  

Come on, don't act shocked- I think we are past that.  Ask me about the time I went to the bondage club with my Bestie and turns out we were the only women there (aside from the Mistress's)....that might be a bit shocking, but no more than attending a huge conference on the scene with every type of player you can imagine.... Or the hundreds of hours I spent interviewing Dom's and Sub's alike both in person and online.   I'm no newbie to this topic.  No i'm not involved, I find it way TOO involved -but i have a tendency to obsess on topics that interest me and there was a time that this did.  In other words, I know of what I speak.  Write. you know what i mean.

 So.  Recommendations -  "The Story of O" of course!  Classic.  Also, my personal favorites are in the Beauty Series written by Anne Rice under the pseudonym  A. N. Roquelaure.  I preferred Rice's stories because they are fantasy rather than reality based.  I understand the interest The Grey books generated- Many women, people, eventually foray into this world of Doms and Subs out of pure curiosity or boredom (hey ~waving wildly~)  if they haven't been driven there by need.  However, there are layers in the lifestyle that are lacking in the Grey books, layers that i found dangerous and reckless to leave out. Calling these good books is similar to calling Bugs Bunny cartoons Oscar material.   The true beauty of the scene is in the structure and ritual that supports it.   Like Opera, it's an acquired taste and you should probably know what you are getting into before you have a seat.  It's much more satisfying, and responsible- to have real knowledge on the topic before you going buying a season pass.  That's all i'm saying.  Again.  and Again.

nuff said

I am looking for a pat on the back, a medal, or even just a nod and a wink thrown into my direction because i DID NOT use my blog to vent my fury.  I didn't do it.  I'm so proud of me.  There, i will give myself all the congratulations.

Journals I wrote in Jr. High live in my storage area.. I still have many of the notes that used to be passed in the hallway, although i don't think I can actually unfold any without them falling apart.  I sometimes ponder trashing them.  I mean really, why am i holding on to this stuff? I'm not a hoarder- i'm actually a huge "throw it away" girl and i purge my closets and drawers at least once a year so WHY does the idea of throwing these things away give me hives?

Because it is documentation of my history, basically.  So much has been lost or destroyed over my lifetime of moving around but THIS box has never been defiled. I have since added journals i kept in my adult life that i would pour my heart into.  That came to a crashing halt when my ex decided to snoop and then judge.  I remember feeling like my skin had been ripped off and my soul had been found wanting.  It hurt.  It hurt in ways i can't explain unless you too pour you private musings into a book you never planned on sharing.

Not only would i not write but the thought of writing would cause me literal panic.

Years later, after i left the ex (there's a shocker eh?) I began blogging.  Back then it wasn't what it is now- no one was getting paid to my knowledge.  It was more of an expansion pack for chat rooms.  What led me there was the frustration of any real content IN chat rooms where there always seemed to be 12 year old boys ( or men acting like 12 year old boys).  Don't forget, chat was where it was at then.  Anyways, i hated the random pointlessness of most of it- or the repetitive nature of what i would share with anyone new.  So I started blogging.  "Please refer to section 11.08 for reasons why i will not tell you what color my underwear is".........you know.

This type of writing was therapeutic. Over time I met a great bunch of people from all over the country simply because we followed each others blogs and found experiences in common.  I guess you could say it was a support group because we really did support each other- and call bullshit when needed.

One of my close friends who lives about 10 minutes from me now was found by blogging.  One was a  man who lived in Oklahoma who lived on a large piece of property were he fixed motorcycles for a living and grew huge gardens of veggies.  He would play in a band on the weekends- and hang out the with guys at his shop during the week.  We kept in touch long after I stopped blogging (thank you facebook) and when he died I felt as if I had lost a dear friend, just as if we had known each other "in real time".   Now i visit his page instead of his grave. How i ever would have met him otherwise is the great mystery, and one of the reasons i've missed blogging.  Imagine if i had never met Cindy, or Dub?

The majority of my entries were very personal although i was smart enough to remain vague on the actual players in my life.  If it pissed me off you would see it in my blog that day.  If I was sad (at one point dangerously sad) you would see it in my blog.  It helped me get through a pretty rough patch in my life that i didn't recognize at the time as "tilled soil" for new growth.  And when i didn't need it anymore, i stopped.

Because this form of communication has changed so much, and because i did learn a few hard lessons about sharing too much, I find myself a bit gun shy getting started again.  And a little disconnected.  I'm not a writer, i don't do it for a living and i wouldn't ever want to be paid to do it.  I am pretty good at putting my feelings into words though.....so that balance is what i'm still looking for.

I was extremely self righteous and pissed off the other day and it took all my self control not to lay it out nice and clean here in writing.  And then i would have felt bad after i cooled off.  Honestly i'm still pretty bent but I can see straight again so THAT part is good.  It really does take quite a bit to get me into a fury but once i'm there..........holy shit.  I don't even know me.   I do have my triggers- and some are very necessary.  That's all I really need to say about that.

and that's why i'd like my medal now.  please and thank you.

Book me.

The struggle is real.  Every time i sit down with a book I get the strongest cravings to light up a cigarette- stronger than when i'm drinking, or driving although never those two at the same time.  I can't remember a time i didn't read.

It was my great grandfather who started my love of books by walking me down to the 5 and dime store by his home in East Hampton MA when i was a little bit of a kid.  He'd get his morning paper and I would get to pick out a golden book. 

Then we would walk back to his house and we would sit in grandpa's big chair and he would read the book to me. (He also always kept a huge bag of M&M's in the pantry, low enough for me to sneak in and reach them.)  He was always gentle with me, never yelled or made me feel like i was in trouble - although the rest of the family did seem to tip toe around him.  He wasn't a big man, but he had a big presence and I loved him because i knew I could do no wrong in his eyes.  Ever.  

The second man to encourage my love of reading was my Grandfather, son in law to my Great Grandfather.  The two never saw eye to eye, one being a Brit and the other Irish during a time when that wasn't the best of marriage combinations.  They agreed with each other on absolutely NOTHING except reading.  Both knew the importance of and shared the love of books.  Not the same kind of books though because that would have been agreeing on something. 

My Grandparents lived in Florida where I would spend every summer of my young years chasing and catching lizards and "helping" my grandfather with his refrigeration business.  He would pick up broken refrigerators and fix them, then sell them again. I was his tag along during deliveries and at the end of the day we would go to 7-11 and i'd get a Coke Slushie and a Mad Magazine, or Cracked or even National Lampoon if the cover wasn't too scandalous.  He said it was better than me reading Teen Magazine.  He was not a fan of me decorating my room with pictures of boys ripped out of those magazines, and my grandmother was no fan of National Lampoon.....not exactly meant for children. 

Grandpa was a war vet and his taste in reading was history and politics which i found BORING. If you wanted a book on WWII or Hitler, he had it.   He had so many books that he actually had floor to ceiling bookshelves in his "library" which was a bathroom off the carport and garage.  As i got older, i scoured that library each summer for anything with the word sex on it....and only had success once when i found the Sir Magazine Book of Jokes which must have been a gift from someone.

 I took that book and i still have it somewhere.  Anyways, to keep me from "borrowing" any more books out of his library he began taking me to the real library once a week where he would let me browse for an hour and then take home an armful of books that i would inhale, literally and figuratively.  

I have a hard time now remembering a book i read last week, but i can remember some of those stories in full like i just closed the book a minute ago.  

My grandfather didn't believe in censoring me and he always asked me lots of questions about what I was reading. Then he would share his stories with me. This pissed my grandmother off when i started reading scary stories and therefor sleeping between them in their king size bed because i was scared.  That fucking Irish Banshee story he told me still makes my blood turn to ice.  I cried a lot over that story, scared that i would see one and someone would die.  STANLEY! I can still hear my grandmother admonishing him. Thing is, he never limited me and always encouraged my every literary curiosity.  He was the second man who thought i could do no wrong even if the women in the family were always telling him, and me different.  

My mother was also a reader but i have not one memory of her reading TO me, or taking me to pick out books.   I just always remember seeing her with a book and a cup of coffee.  So i guess we have that in common.  She had quite a collection herself and she loved Fiction.  She kept the "inappropriate" books on the top shelf in the rec room in the basement.  This was the cover of the  book "Fear of Flying" 

Obviously, my curious little mind couldn't resist reading it at every opportunity, careful not to fold over pages.  I. Was. Mortified.  and decided that i would never EVER have sex and that boys were disgusting creatures.   That didn't stop me from reading every single book on that  top shelf.  C'mon mom.  really?  That was too much temptation.  I was also influenced by Stephen King's "The Shining" and "The Stand" along with "Salems Lot"...........which horrified me in different ways.  

Books have always been my constant.  I've read them when I need to hide from the world, or calm down, or escape. Once, I was on serious pain medication after a surgery I had and my young kids took turns reading the Harry Potter books out loud to me because i was too high to see straight. I would lay there and argue with them that they weren't reading  Harry Potter....I don't remember that part but my daughter does.  What I do remember is the soothing feeling of being read to.  I associate reading with love.

Side note: I just started bawling because it occurred to me that besides teachers reading to the whole class, my children were the first (and last) people to read out loud to me since my grandfathers.  Jesus Christ is this what mid life is?  Fucking hormones.  

Anyways.

I started reading to both my babies before they were even born.  

When i worked at the boys emergency youth shelter, I would sit in the dark in the middle of the long hallway and read a book  out loud using a flashlight to see so they would go to sleep.  Those boys were between the ages of 11 and 17 and they would settle right in to listen to me read. The rule was if i had to stop more than once because of any shenanigans, i would stop reading for that night.  It never happened.  The favorite was "The Eyes of The Dragon" by Stephen King (of course).

Have you gotten yet, that books are important to me?  I'm not sure that i have made my point. How well does sarcasm translate in a blog? hmmm?

When I was married i resorted to hiding in the basement with a book until i heard footsteps coming down the stairs and then i would jump up and get busy "doing laundry".    My ex didn't have high tolerance for me "sitting around doing nothing". Think about me living with someone who considered that a waste of time.  YEah.

Ever since i quit smoking it's been difficult to sit and read because i used to do both constantly and for the last year it's been a trigger for me.  I'm finally coming back to being able to sit and read again and now i'm having a hard time wading through the crap.  There is a lot of crap out there and I have no patience since i've already lost a year.

Suggestions?  I'm down for it all.  

Why i pay for it

I have wireless internet as of today.

Let me briefly explain why this is worth saying. 

We had been without cable or internet at home for about 3 years.  What i did have for a while was unlimited data through verizon which i took full advantage of by streaming netflix over my cell phone and mirroring it to the television.  For a bit.  Seems i wasn't the only one doing that and Verizon wised up and made it virtually impossible.  But that is a different story, the one of cell phones and their contribution to the decline of intimacy and subtle nuances...

Back to the cable.  Even after i was no longer able to mirror movies onto the television we were fine living without television.  More than fine.  I read a lot of books.  Shit got done.  We went out a lot.  Life happened.  I missed the morning news and the weather which i just got off the radio.  No biggie.  

Then my son moved back home.  He said there was no way he could live without internet so I invited him to fix that, which he promptly did.  For the first time i was able to use the "smart tv" we had only watched dvd's on in our bedroom.  And that was pretty much all it took.  I purchased amazon fire tv for the gigantic living room tv that was already outdated because *gasp* it wasn't wireless OR smart. I became worse than ever before when i realized that i could also purchase HBO NOW which allows you to watch all HBO shows and movies without having cable tv.  Magic.  I can do marathons like nobodies business. For a whole year we had access courtesy of my son.  I still wasn't paying for it.  He was.  So that wasn't technically me........anyways that's how i made it okay in my head.

You see- my last gunfight with the cable company happened after they dumped all the material i had recorded on the DVR player that i paid to rent each month on top of all the other stuff.  When they dumped it and i inquired how long it would take for them to "make it all come back" I was informed that they were "sorry" they couldn't do that.....I asked (screamed) if they understood that I used to be able to tape my shows on cassettes in a machine that i paid for ONCE and had forever after without further charges....they cared not.  When i told them if i had to call them one more time to "reset" my box I would charge them for the time i had to keep spending on the phone with them...they cared not. 

I cancelled them.  With glee. And after a few days we were okay again- having woken up from our tv coma.  I vowed to never again pay for something that turned our brains to mush.

I lied.

I'm weak.

My son moved into his own apartment recently and took the wi-fi with him.  

For days i felt like a drug addict.  "where's the wi-fi, how can i get the wi-fi, can i steal wi-fi, I NEED THE WI-FI"  I lost sleep, no tv to soothe me.  I wandered aimlessly through the house when i was alone missing the voices that used to keep me company - the sounds of all the Real Housewives playing in the background of my housecleaning......Music just doesn't fill the emptiness....

And oddly, i missed my streaming radio 1heartradio the most.  Pandora.  and my favorite cheat -youtube hooked into the stereo (i don't really care about the videos).  It soon became very evident that I am addicted to internet.

So we're back on it, he and I.  The router arrived today and i got it all hooked up and did the happy dance as each device declared it was "connected".  Ah.  This is the life.

Did you know Bob Ross is on Hulu?  It was the first show we watched and i felt chills running down my spine as i listened to him talk of happy trees and caressing the canvas...Let me tell you, I have a whole different take on his dialog now that i'm not taking everything literally......i think i got a little turned on.  I kid you not.  Close your eyes and listen to him sometime.....

As i write this blog i have Taxi on in the background....Jeff Conaway and Tony Danza... Remember Chico and the Man?  Or Barney Miller?  I miss those shows.  So that's something to be happy about right?  Wi-fi allows me to re-visit shows that otherwise i wouldn't be able to.  And that's a good enough reason for me to pay for it now.  

That's my story and i'm sticking to it.  

glue you

Today someone referred to me as the "social glue" that kept people together.

I wanted to tell that person I can't even arrange a soup night with my friends, let alone be considered social glue.

That's all.  Just wanted to remember someone else's perception of me.  MEMEmememememe.  told you.

Commute thoughts

A small part of me wants to apologize ahead of time to anyone who might actually read this.  I'm trying to make this a habit, this blogging thing, so that eventually I will "get used" to it and maybe even have something worth saying other than rambling.  Or not. 

This morning while i was driving in to work on my pleasant commute(mostly scenic back roads and no highways yay!) I was thinking.  Seems i do a lot of "free" thinking Monday-Friday 7am-7:30am.  Maybe because i'm not sullied from the day yet having had little contact with humans.  Pretty much it's me and the kitties in the morning and they are always very happy to see me get out of bed so they can try and kill me as i go down the stairs to feed them.  The most I get out of the man if he is still home is "Good morning, i love you, see you tonight"......and that's the long version.   He's either still in bed trying to sleep (not if i'm up buddy) or he has already left for the day.  

That would drive me insane, never knowing what time i was going in to  work until the night before.  Screw that.  I am a routined woman.  I get up at this time, brush my teeth at that time, and blah blah filler- out the door by 7am.  I know when i need to be asleep by so that i'm not a scary woman during the day.  Sleep is my antidepressant.  I will never understand people who act like it's a waste of time.  I love bed.  I love covers and pillows and softness.......sigh.  I wish i could work from bed.  eh........scratch that.    

My guy is the exact opposite.  Routine is like a punishment to him.  To me it's security.  I'm living on the wild side when we mix it up on the weekend.  It's kind of like i'd rather read about life than actually live it- and he can't sit still long enough to read because he's too busy living.  There doesn't seem to be a happy medium.  I'm not sure one is needed.

If ever there were two opposites- it is us.  Most of the time it works well but when it doesn't, it REALLY doesn't.  More about that in future entries i'm SURE.

Wanted to mention that I spent the weekend with my closest (and yet farthest away) friend Cathy.  How I love her.  A couple of hours is never enough so now we've gone into overnights and then THAT wasn't enough so now we are up to weekends.  Anyone paying attention to us would probably think we are crazy- we talk and talk and talk and are able to follow each other's lead even when we end up off track which is constantly- I joke that when we are in the nursing home together our batteries on our hearing aids will die and no-one will know because we will still be chattering at each other - perfectly happy.   Visiting her always feels like coming home.  She is the closest thing i have to family (outside of my children) because we know each other's history.  All of it.  All the good and dirty bits too.  And no matter what, time, distance, whatever- even when we don't see each other for over a year or talk to each other often- we pick up like we just saw each other yesterday.
  

So that's what i was thinking this morning, how lucky i am to have a beautiful commute to work and how grateful i am to have Cathy (Caterina I can't get used to that!) in my life.  There are many people in my life to be grateful for and only a few to suffer the presence of.  I guess that makes me a very lucky lady.