Monthly Archives: August 2008

It’s a funny perspective you get when you read your own journal. If you are someone like me, the first thing you do is catch all the grammatical errors you’ve made. Then you laugh and cry at the things you’ve written. This time I wasn’t reading my blog or my writing but the journal. They say you can’t go back, but maybe sometimes you should. I was reminded of angers and hurts over things that weren’t mine to be angry and hurt over. During a time when I was struggling with my own issues of title-waves and boundary dodging, self-worth and self gratification I was taking up what precious little sanity and energy I had worrying for someone else over a problem that is nowhere near mine to solve. In fact it may never be solved. I was talking to a mentor one day about some stress and issues, she kindly and calmly said “don’t take his shit on as your own”. This doesn’t sound that big but she never, ever swore and it caught me off guard. That was her point. To this day I still “take his shit on as my own”. I can read my journal and see the improvement, but it’s still there. The shit. Sometimes you have to go back to pick up the waders you left behind so you can get out of the muck you’re currently in. I went and got my waders. I’m even practicing putting them on. It helps that they’re pink… but you probably knew that.

Some days I look at my knuckles, bloodied from scraping the bottom of my barrel, and ask the same questions I asked so many times before… Where did my positive energy go? How did this happen? How did I let it get so low? Did I blow a fuse on the idiot light for my positive energy meter? I am left wondering how long the cycle continues until I figure out how to change the course.

We all have a cycle of life that we can follow blindly or change as we go along. I think sometimes I get so comfortable in the motions that I don't pause to realize I'm not comfortable with the motion. I get in my groove of doing everything I can to make everyone around me happy and am blind to the fact that I'm not happy. I'm that girl. (no, not that girl) the girl that doesn't pause to look at the details when there is something that someone needs, the one that will spend all that she has getting things for others and then realizing she left herself with $20 for food for the next 2 weeks. And i'm that girl that will laugh, cry, hurt, love, be happy, sad and angry with you. It's easier than doing them for me. I'll let my tears fall silently and sting my cheeks before I let you know my barrel is empty of energy.

So I'm looking for the way to change the cycle. To continue being that girl that cares for, and takes care of, the people I love but not at the price of depleting my barrel. I will find it. I've started working out, so you know I've been cycling and jogging and getting in shape. I've changed the fuse for my idiot light. And while I'm hovering a lot lower than I'd like, my knuckles aren't bleeding. I can't touch the bottom quite yet. This is a better place than usual. And I'll keep pushing myself toward a new cycle. (maybe a cruiser this time or a road cycle- we'll see what mood I'm in) Until I find it, I think I'll buy a box of fuses and maybe wear gloves.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

That bridge of delusion that I had built was replaced by one of reality paved with intuition. It wasn’t a stable bridge, always splintering and cracking. So I hired back the road crew, I’d fired when I started building the thing and funny if they didn’t do their job (I think I fired them for that the first time…). They even had some hired boy to wash my car and install a five point harness so I wouldn’t get thrown out the side. My car has no doors… I like a little wind in my hair… you know, now that I have some. The thing about the five point harness is we have to use it… all the way, properly. We can’t just wear the lap belt. Because when you hit the edge of the construction zone at nice pace (I’ll never admit to anything) well, a lap belt doesn’t protect the most important parts. You can get tossed around and spit out. Basically, we get no protection if we don’t use safety gear. Our intuition is all that we have when we strip down to the bare core of our soul. It’s what starts the other things moving and keeps us safe. Intuition is what gives us the “fight or flight” reaction. And like many other things in my little world… I know it and choose not to use it to my advantage. I allow the desire to keep my dress from getting wrinkled to keep me from buckling up. I grasp too tightly to the wheel when I know the rule of crashing and I should have let go. There’s no place to fix the hurts and we can’t get out and blame the car. We’re so quick to jump up and blame– brake failure, bad parts, this, that, blah, blah, blah when really, the signs were up for the zone ahead, advanced warning. I had the harness, I chose to wear only the lap belt, I have to take the time to mend the wound and fix the car… on my own, and if I get stuck, I can always google.

I have been waiting for this day to come… waiting with baited breath for the sheriff to come a knockin at my door and serve me with papers from the psycho landlady. Yeah, he went to my mom’s (where I keep a permanent address) and of course she knew him. So he told her if he couldn’t deliver it today we would get continued. I told her to SIGN IT! I’ll be damned if she gets any more time.

She is suing for 5 months rent and contractor fees paid for a kitchen addition asked for by the plaintiff (me) less the thousand dollar security deposit she has kept. Here’s the good part: she states that she is suing out of “self-defense” because I am suing her for double my deposit. I broke the six month lease and she was without a renter for almost two months. Ding-ding a prize to who can see where she fucks herself! Even if I conceded a six month lease (which I would not) she states in legal documents that she currently has a renter. She can’t ask for anything beyond the date that tenant moved in.. which was June. “Almost two months” does not equal two months and legally, she would have to account for exact amounts of time. It would be the date the tenant signed the lease. So if it was May (when I saw the u-haul) that’s really a month. Fa-juck-ed!!! Who got the prize?

Enough law lesson… whatever. I’m kind of excited. At the same time, I feel sorry for her. She is either getting really bad counsel or none at all. If none at all, I take it back and she really is just an idiot. But if someone is telling her to do this because she has a chance… That is a really bad friend. I am fortunate to have good counsel, a wide network of friends and (oh yeah) a brain to do some frickin research. It’s not cool to be a big bitch. And I’m not trying to take her for all she’s worth or even get all I could ask for. So for now I need chill out. Smugness and arrogance is unbecoming. Large smiles on my bright shining face however, very becoming. I wonder what song will get stuck in my head that day? I wonder if when she pays me I can give her that ticket with her receipt? Now what did I do with that gift box???

I believe that sometimes you have to look reality in the eye and deny it.
~Garrison Keillor

Okay, so I think the iPod in my head is broken… or some pod gnome has broken the tamper-proof seal and found a way to make the shuffle go back to one song, every day, at least 5 times and sometimes stick it on repeat so I can’t get it off. The worst is that it chooses the worst songs ever! The past three weeks have been mostly Journey with a sprinkling of other selected gems. Quite a combo when you get (wait for it, wait for it…..) oh yeah Wheel in the Sky that keeps on turnin’ in your frikin head! And ya know, I’ve heard this song the better part of my life and didn’t know until now that the first verse contains the line: Sent a letter on a long summer day, Made of silver, not of clay… wtf? does this mean anyway? The letter is made of silver? I’m really not that dense nor do I have issues with metaphor but huh???? Anyhow, maybethe little gremlins just want me to go round and round with the dichotomy between silver and clay and that neither are materials for wheels in the sky. Whatever… Tomorrow I know I’ll be working instead of playing and it didn’t take a wheel to figure it out. Then there is Mr. Roboto. because you know, he is a modren man, (secret, secret, he’s got a secret). Maybe the little bastards are trying to tell me something beyond the fact that Styx sucked and Dennis DeYoung was either way fucked up on something potent or just really, really weird. Maybe I just need a secret or I need to play robot and go do some menial labor… Regardless, Domo Aregato I need a beer-o . Add to all of this (oh yes, the piece de resistance – did I spell that with a snotty French accent??) Think keyboard, think synthesizer – do-do-do-do. do-da-do-do-do. do-do-do-do. do-da-do-do-do-da-do… are ya there, do you feel it yet… oh yes. The long curly blondish hair with the shiny lip gloss and bright blue eyes that scream – I am all that is 1986. It’s The Final Countdown just pops up randomly cutting off a Johnny Cash song or Weezer or something far cooler. (Oh that it would cut off Styx, I’ll take Euro-glam over Styx) This is the only one of the three I could kinda, maybe, sort of understand getting lodged in my nogg. I used to be that evil person that would have the ring-back tone on my phone, you know “please enjoy the music while your party is reached”. I purposely chose something that was just not right and that song was the final countdown. I never had to hear it, so maybe this is my penance for that. But seriously… Mr. Roboto? You’re wondering who I am-machine or mannequin, With parts made in Japan, I am the modren man … Who spells modern like that? And I am not Kilroy… well maybe I am, that could be the secret (secret) hhhmmm I’ll have to think about that while the wheel in the sky counts down a final time today.

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