It's almost 2:00 a.m. and I still can't sleep.
Last night I baked dog biscuits untilt 3:00 am to stop thinking of HIM.
Today, I'll just pray to meet someone who owns a cast iron skillet and doesn't mind smacking me in the head with it.
Nevermind...
all I need to do is call my ex, he'd do that for me.
Please...please...
someone asked me what I wanted for Christmas....
what I want no one can buy me.
She came close.
My aunt bought me a book on metaphysical soul contracts to try to explain the wild ride I've been on for the past twenty years. I owned a couple copies of the book but the reminder to read it is priceless.
I love my aunt. Maybe the book will help explain the crazy dreams, the conversations with my high school sweetheart during the death of my marriage, the rape that broke us up, my work with rape victims, and running for mayor which led to helping keep a rape victim out of jail for using the word 'cunt' while describing the assault around a cop...
Yep...you can get arrested for offending a police officer with a curse word. I nearly wrote a song about it and ridiculed the cop, city council and city attorney on YouTube -but- cooler heads prevailed and the city attorney grew his nards back, realized he wasn't acting like a man, and dropped the freakin' charges.
I'm a better satirist than I am a politician.
No matter the holiday, I will never get the gift I desire. I just want someone kind to give me a reason to go to bed at a decent hour.
My heart hearts. My eyes are watery. My throat is numb from the alcohol.
Did I mention the horrid pain in my chest?
I don't know how to go on. I just know that I have to.
I can hear my ex snore from the basement.
Is there a way to stop this pain?
I don't know how much more I can take.
Sipping my whiskey and trying to fall asleep on the last night of the year,
S.
I'm pretending to be everything the gossips in my life say I am in the hopes that I can create some kind of believable fictional character. The things I write about are based on the gossip and some of my life experiences. After five years, the only thing I've learned from this experience is that I can be quite the Trickster....thus the name of the blog. Love ya!
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Maybe an answer...
The nightly dreams of my high school sweetheart started on November 5, 2006.
They came in with a bang.
I would dream of meeting him at a local fair and having him ask me for a relationship. I'd tell him that I was married and we walked off so I could find my husband and introduce them.
In my dreams, we never found my husband. He always left me stranded.
All the while, my stereo would mysteriously go off playing some music circa 1985. Each night, I'd end up pulling the plug on some electronic radio after waking up from a dream. The dreams usually took place around 3:33 or 4:44 in the morning.
Then, the nightmares came.
I'd see him fighting with a woman; they were hitting each other. I saw them in a car crash. I saw him break his leg but couldn't help him. It was like, I was a ghost watching him writhe in pain.
I'd usually sit straight up and scream his name. When I was awake, I really wasn't sure who the man in my dream was...but while sleeping..it was always his name I'd scream.
Sometimes it was "Oh, no Tom!" or "Oh, no...not again....TOM!"
I woke up the man in the basement. He probably is pissed I wasn't screaming his name.
There was an old man named Michael Finnegan...
hmmm.....that just doesn't work when shrieking in terror, does it? Poor Mikey.
Anyway...
Now, after awhile, I'd wake up the entire house screaming Tom's name. It became a running joke. So, after a while, when I regained my composure, I'd break out into a RUSH song as to cover my tracks.
Modern Day Warrior, mean mean stride.
It's still a running joke in my family. I get Rush CDs for Christmas. My friends are asked to play this for me at gigs. For years, my ex breaks out giggling whenever this plays when I am around.
Catch the mystery, catch the drift
I don't understand men.
I do have a friend who knows an astrologer who explained what the holy hell is going on.
Apparently, November 5th is a significant day for Scorpios because Saturn has entered Scorpio for the first time since the mid-eighties.
Seriously...
Starting November 5th, 2012 - five years after the dreams started, Scorpios get to clean out the bad relationship of their past on a metaphysical level. She said that Saturn moves into Scorpio and lets the November guys clean out all their bad relationship karma since the mid-eighties.
He doesn't have bad karma with me but whatever....if he did, he should be squeaky clean now.
Right???
At least as far as I know.
Praise the lord. Hallelujah!
Okay, not so fast. I was told he has to learn to accept us crazy wacko chickies as we are.
He didn't like Siegfred in the mid-eighties. I wanted to try out as a bass player in an all male band.
My old flame threw a fit. I didn't audition due to his worries that I'd become, as he termed it, ' a hole in the band'.
I started my career much later. As much as I dislike country music, I found myself as a back-up bassist in a country band as I thought it was a way to get experience and earn my chops. They were a pretty big deal. They had some airplay and opened for George Jones.
I had to stop hanging out in the smoky bars in which they played though. I had undiagnosed asthma and couldn't breathe around all that smoke. My lips would turn blue and I'd run outside gasping for air. I had constant sinus infections. Tired of being sick and taking tons of antibiotics, I gave up on my music career circa 1992. I found psychotherapy and whip sales much easier pursuits.
There were other problems in our relationship, too.
I was psychic and, well...knowing in advance that people were going to kick the bucket is probably a weird trait in a girlfriend. I saw my dad's suicide. My dad's death made me homeless. I got my own apartment and was afraid to let him know. I also was set to graduate one year earlier than he and granted into a music program across the state. I knew we would break up.
I kinda freaked out and he wanted to save me.
It couldn't have worked. I had a lot of faults and he spoiled me to the point of becoming high maintenance. Breaking up was the best thing he did for himself.
So...if he's got karma coming to him...he ought to buy a lotto ticket because he'll have a good shot of winning something.
The astrologer said that accepting the bad relationships and the craziness of the past isn't enough...
Nope...
He's got a much harder task.
He's got accept himself, just as he is and understand he's a pretty cool dude.
Even if he stalks his exes online because he worries about them.
Even if he pretends to rate us in terms of how happy he is that we are gone because he still gives a damn...
I get it.
I don't understand why I feel him when he's near. I don't understand why I dream of him before he shows up. I don't understand why I'm so darn connected to this dear soul who doesn't want a damn thing to do with me.
Do I need to fix the karma on my end?
I thought I did that.
If so, when does this end so I can stop missing him?
Hmmmm....
I didn't get an answer.
Happy new year Tom Sawyer!
It may be the beginning of happier times!
Love,
S.
P.S. Oh, one more thing...
It brings back feelings.
Superficiality pisses him off.
One of those deep things is a mention of wanting to do something greater than himself. He started to talk about helping others last time we met, then the crowd got loud and I couldn't hear him. I asked him to repeat himself because I am losing my hearing but the conversation turned to how sorry he was that I was going deaf and that I always did like my music loud.
I missed what he said. I regret that.
So, Tom...
Whatever it is...the astrologer says you need to do it.
I'll help!!
Around 2007, I dreamt of a charity you started.
In my dream, you were sixty years old. You still had hair (I know that is important to you). You were standing next to a piece of machinery. There were apples. There were boxes.
We were packing the boxes with a ton of other volunteers.
When we were done, you were so happy. You gave me a big hug. It felt like Christmas - not the kind of Christmases I have now with Drama Kings who like to cause trouble...the kind I had as a child with wonder, and faith, and love.
I couldn't see what we were packing into those boxes.
I only remember that you said you enjoyed doing it "for the children".
If you truly want to start a charity to help kids, count me in. I've spent far too much time with greedy politicians in the past three years and want to spend time helping people who do not help themselves by taking money from the poor.
I yearn for something less...icky...
Let me know what you're up to the next time the universe sticks us in the same room. If you need my help, we'll find each other in an elevator or something when the time is right.
Happy 2012!
S.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Can't sleep
It's 1:30 a.m.
I hear HIM in my dreams and I can't sleep.
So, just in case my dreams are accurate I'll answer his question.
No, I won't forget you.
I just want you to be happy.
I'm here for you no matter what.
I bought you a Birthday/Christmas gift, just in case we run into each other again. I'm wary about it, though because it was on the clearance rack and it may be dried out but when I saw it, it seemed like something you should have. It is a travel paint kit that you can put in your backpack while hiking. I could only find a watercolor one. I'm on the prowl for an oil set, a pencil set, and a pastel set. You wrote about the beauty of diving but that you couldn't convey what you saw. You're so talented, this is one way you can share the beauty of your perceptions.
I know I'll run into you again...the universe won't let me run away too far or too long. I admit to hiding from you in stores in the 90's. Forgive me...I knew it was you. I was afraid to face you because of what happened to me when we parted.
Oh, there are other creepy questions in that damn dream. So...here goes.
No, don't you dare look for anyone like me. Don't marry another redheaded fat woman that looks like me.
That did not go very well, did it?
Our relationship didn't go very well either...
Stop!!!
Go out and find the exact opposite. Get someone hotter, younger, and sexier.
I'll still be here old friend. We have love born out of friendship, not the kinds of things men really want.... like lust. You might think you want someone who loves you, who understands you, who remembers who you really are despite your great acting like a negative nancy in public. I know who you are and wish you'd stop being someone else.
We're going to be friends no matter what...but anything more than that with me will bore the holy crap out of you. Look at it this way, if you didn't want me when you were a hormone ridden teenager, you won't want me like that now....
Does that help?
It helps me when you look at me with that filthy grin. I tell myself the same thing. He didn't want me then, he doesn't want me know. Try it!! It works a heck of a lot better than ice water!!
It sucks being psychic.
I've had dreams of the death of my nemesis, the lawyer who allowed the harassment of my family to occur. The truth is that I'm too afraid to publish that lest people think I'm responsible. He dies due to an illness pertaining to the build up of toxins in his body. I do see that he is planning to retire in the very near future which may help with the healing process.
I really do not want him to die as I realize now that I wouldn't know what to do without his antics; the creepy legal eagle amuses me. Any candles lit for him are lit with prayers of healing.
When I dreamt of my ex's boss's car crash, I tried to warn her in this blog. The lawyers told me she was stalking my blog. It didn't matter, though. The crash happened. Two months later, a former employee she fired called to say she had a stroke and got hurt. I had legions of witches praying for her health.
I do tell people my predictions with the warning; it's only fiction until it happens. Please do everything in your power to make the negative things I see fiction.
The problem is that few people listen until it is too late.
Love,
S.
I hear HIM in my dreams and I can't sleep.
So, just in case my dreams are accurate I'll answer his question.
No, I won't forget you.
I just want you to be happy.
I'm here for you no matter what.
I bought you a Birthday/Christmas gift, just in case we run into each other again. I'm wary about it, though because it was on the clearance rack and it may be dried out but when I saw it, it seemed like something you should have. It is a travel paint kit that you can put in your backpack while hiking. I could only find a watercolor one. I'm on the prowl for an oil set, a pencil set, and a pastel set. You wrote about the beauty of diving but that you couldn't convey what you saw. You're so talented, this is one way you can share the beauty of your perceptions.
I know I'll run into you again...the universe won't let me run away too far or too long. I admit to hiding from you in stores in the 90's. Forgive me...I knew it was you. I was afraid to face you because of what happened to me when we parted.
Oh, there are other creepy questions in that damn dream. So...here goes.
No, don't you dare look for anyone like me. Don't marry another redheaded fat woman that looks like me.
That did not go very well, did it?
Our relationship didn't go very well either...
Stop!!!
Go out and find the exact opposite. Get someone hotter, younger, and sexier.
I'll still be here old friend. We have love born out of friendship, not the kinds of things men really want.... like lust. You might think you want someone who loves you, who understands you, who remembers who you really are despite your great acting like a negative nancy in public. I know who you are and wish you'd stop being someone else.
We're going to be friends no matter what...but anything more than that with me will bore the holy crap out of you. Look at it this way, if you didn't want me when you were a hormone ridden teenager, you won't want me like that now....
Does that help?
It helps me when you look at me with that filthy grin. I tell myself the same thing. He didn't want me then, he doesn't want me know. Try it!! It works a heck of a lot better than ice water!!
It sucks being psychic.
I've had dreams of the death of my nemesis, the lawyer who allowed the harassment of my family to occur. The truth is that I'm too afraid to publish that lest people think I'm responsible. He dies due to an illness pertaining to the build up of toxins in his body. I do see that he is planning to retire in the very near future which may help with the healing process.
I really do not want him to die as I realize now that I wouldn't know what to do without his antics; the creepy legal eagle amuses me. Any candles lit for him are lit with prayers of healing.
When I dreamt of my ex's boss's car crash, I tried to warn her in this blog. The lawyers told me she was stalking my blog. It didn't matter, though. The crash happened. Two months later, a former employee she fired called to say she had a stroke and got hurt. I had legions of witches praying for her health.
I do tell people my predictions with the warning; it's only fiction until it happens. Please do everything in your power to make the negative things I see fiction.
The problem is that few people listen until it is too late.
Love,
S.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Weighty Issues
The man in the basement and I had "the talk" about his weight.
He knew it was tough. He realized that I couldn't please him due to restricted access the last time I made the attempt (well over two years ago).
That was, maybe, seventy pounds ago. If a man knew that eating more salad would get his mind blown more often, why would he eat so many Little Debbie Snack Cakes?
I'll never understand the priorities of some men....unless he's gaining the weight because he doesn't want me touching him. That would make sense.
I don't know.
How does a friend help a friend in need?
Do I have to get super hot and ride a bike sans undies in front of him?
No, I can't find a trail that private. I don't want to scare the youngins that frequent the national park with the frightening reality of aging bodies.
It's quite scary to see saggy skin when you're that young. I saw my 85 year old grand aunt run around naked when I was 25; I decided from that moment forward that I would start wearing support.
What to do? what to do?
Should I pray that he finds a hot girlfriend that would make wanting to lose weight worth it?
Maybe....
I'm no prize pig...maybe he needs someone worth the effort.
As far as the business, he reasons that the more money I make the less he'll have to support me.
He's offered to help me financially...but...
he needs a car without a broken front seat...the broken seat he has is held up with bricks. I fear whenever the children ride in it. Think what would happen in the event of a crash? Those bricks will go flying all over the place.
he needs help losing the weight...
I can't take money for a business if it kills his ability to stay safe.
How do I reach the man?
Maybe I shouldn't even try.
I do have a friend that wanted to date me. We went to high school together and I had a crush on him before I met my high school sweetheart. As much as we like to talk to each other, I think this man has finally realized that he can only handle me in small doses. We both have OCD and are a little too fond of hand sanitizer. Hanging out with him is like looking in a slightly dented mirror in a house of perversion. We bring out the most inappropriate feelings in each other but we could never act on it lest we get our hands dirty and have to dive for the rubbing alcohol or the confession box.
He's an excellent friend and he gives the most stellar advice. He also keeps me incredibly faithful as neither one of us like dirt (emotional or physical).
He's a Pisces, so he's hyper-intuitive. He always knows when to call and what to say. When he asked if I were available to see him, I told him 'no' and said that I'd decide what to do about my marriage after the election.
He recently called to ask how that was going.
I told him that I couldn't move out right now. Like a precision inquisitor, he drilled it down to the reason.
My estranged spouse still lives in the basement. His father is dying. The man is unhealthy. He doesn't have a real job. He needs his space to do his own thing and figure out what he wants. I can't distract him with lawyers in a time of crisis.
His reply was akin to, "there really is no hurry to destroy your life".
He's right.
I'm so lucky to have a friend like that. I'm surprised he hasn't been snatched up by a lovely young lady by now. It won't be long.
Love goes on....no matter what happens in love or how we deny our feelings, our hearts won't allow for a void. If I don't fix this relationship or end it, the universe will bring someone to either me or my ex that will force that decision. It's been over three years, I don't know how long this can go.
That's weird...
I just got an email from a 73 year old man telling me that I was pretty. I may be pretty on the outside, man.... but the inside needs a little work.
Love,
S.
He knew it was tough. He realized that I couldn't please him due to restricted access the last time I made the attempt (well over two years ago).
That was, maybe, seventy pounds ago. If a man knew that eating more salad would get his mind blown more often, why would he eat so many Little Debbie Snack Cakes?
I'll never understand the priorities of some men....unless he's gaining the weight because he doesn't want me touching him. That would make sense.
I don't know.
How does a friend help a friend in need?
Do I have to get super hot and ride a bike sans undies in front of him?
No, I can't find a trail that private. I don't want to scare the youngins that frequent the national park with the frightening reality of aging bodies.
It's quite scary to see saggy skin when you're that young. I saw my 85 year old grand aunt run around naked when I was 25; I decided from that moment forward that I would start wearing support.
What to do? what to do?
Should I pray that he finds a hot girlfriend that would make wanting to lose weight worth it?
Maybe....
I'm no prize pig...maybe he needs someone worth the effort.
As far as the business, he reasons that the more money I make the less he'll have to support me.
He's offered to help me financially...but...
he needs a car without a broken front seat...the broken seat he has is held up with bricks. I fear whenever the children ride in it. Think what would happen in the event of a crash? Those bricks will go flying all over the place.
he needs help losing the weight...
I can't take money for a business if it kills his ability to stay safe.
How do I reach the man?
Maybe I shouldn't even try.
I do have a friend that wanted to date me. We went to high school together and I had a crush on him before I met my high school sweetheart. As much as we like to talk to each other, I think this man has finally realized that he can only handle me in small doses. We both have OCD and are a little too fond of hand sanitizer. Hanging out with him is like looking in a slightly dented mirror in a house of perversion. We bring out the most inappropriate feelings in each other but we could never act on it lest we get our hands dirty and have to dive for the rubbing alcohol or the confession box.
He's an excellent friend and he gives the most stellar advice. He also keeps me incredibly faithful as neither one of us like dirt (emotional or physical).
He's a Pisces, so he's hyper-intuitive. He always knows when to call and what to say. When he asked if I were available to see him, I told him 'no' and said that I'd decide what to do about my marriage after the election.
He recently called to ask how that was going.
I told him that I couldn't move out right now. Like a precision inquisitor, he drilled it down to the reason.
My estranged spouse still lives in the basement. His father is dying. The man is unhealthy. He doesn't have a real job. He needs his space to do his own thing and figure out what he wants. I can't distract him with lawyers in a time of crisis.
His reply was akin to, "there really is no hurry to destroy your life".
He's right.
I'm so lucky to have a friend like that. I'm surprised he hasn't been snatched up by a lovely young lady by now. It won't be long.
Love goes on....no matter what happens in love or how we deny our feelings, our hearts won't allow for a void. If I don't fix this relationship or end it, the universe will bring someone to either me or my ex that will force that decision. It's been over three years, I don't know how long this can go.
That's weird...
I just got an email from a 73 year old man telling me that I was pretty. I may be pretty on the outside, man.... but the inside needs a little work.
Love,
S.
Cold New Day
So...
I found an office and am close to signing a one year lease. I don't know if it is wise to use the little amount of money I made online to rent an office or to put towards a divorce.
I spoke to the man in the basement. He says wants to try to rekindle our relationship.
I don't know how.
When I tried to talk to him about his expectations and figure out the logistics of playing homemaker to him and having my own business, he just stared off into space. When I mentioned divorce, he yelled.
I stay with him because he can't handle the kids.
I don't make enough money to support them on my own.
Here's the rub....
For years, I thought I was sexually broken. I don't want to go into logistics but sex is difficult given our current situation. You'd have to be in this situation to understand. I've spoken to other women married to 500+ lb men and, yes, they have the same problems in the sack.
I'm not frigid. The weight makes it frustrating. I'm a very creative person and that is probably what made the relationship last as long as it did....but even creativity is limited to the laws of physics.
I also understand the psychology of sex.
Men need sex to feel close to women. Women need communication to feel close to men. The problems started when he stopped talking to me (something to do with a tiff between him and his mommy back in '01). If women service men they tend to talk and vice versa.
With this in mind, should a woman wanted to stop the "No Sex=No Communication" cycle, all she has to do is screw the guy.
What if she can't give it to him in a manner that is mutually fulfilling?
I'm seriously trying to figure out where I stand and what needs to happen in order to do right by everyone here.
Here's the deal.
The man weighed 350 pounds when we met. He had a 42" waist.
He was my friend. I didn't know he had feelings for me. When he admitted them, my family told me to stay away because of his weight. I was a recovering anorexic and they were afraid his weight would trigger my illness. It didn't. His family told me to stay away because of his hygiene; they said that I needed to get away because of my OCD. They were afraid his germs would destroy my teeth and my health - as if I never had exposure to germs or anything. His mother and sister can make me laugh like no one else can. Like kissing him will make my teeth fall out!!
After some thought, I gave into the idea of dating him. Love is blind I said. I can love the person despite his appearance I said.
Maybe I was wrong.
We've spent thousands of dollars on diets. I started cooking vegetarian meals, replaced milk with tofu, used fake butter and all that. He got down to 320 pounds.
Then, I found empty "Little Debbie" box in his car. I found a lot of them!
So, I started making baked goods, subsitituing the flour with soy protien powder (it can be done but one has to add a lot more liquid ingrediants to make up for the dryness).
He still bought the snack cakes.
I'm frustrated.
He now has a 54" waist. I will NOT go into the difficulties his weight is presenting. He is well over 500 pounds.
He refuses to buy life insurance. We do not have health insurance.
I don't understand how this is a good place to be.
How can I afford to stay? This is a fiscally dangerous situation.
It is also emotionally frustrating.
Last week I learned the hard way that I can't sleep with him. He can't sleep with me.
He wanted to try to work it out. I let him and it didn't go so well.
I learned that we could never share a bedroom.
I remember those days when we shared a bed and he was so heavy, I'd roll into the center of it in the middle of the night. I quickly learned to grab the edge of the bed on my side when I slept.
I still wake up clutching the side of the bed. I've slept alone since '07.
I bought a new pillow last night thinking that would ease my pain.
It felt nice but I broke down in tears. Now, crying in the middle of the night is nothing new. I've done it for over ten years.
It doesn't seem fair to be alone for so long. Maybe I'm being a baby but....something seems off.
How does he expect that we can we ever have a marriage?
How does one honor her marital vows with a man who calls himself her ex?
How does one honor her marital vows with a man she cannot get close with?
How can I invest in a man who will not invest in me? What if he won't invest in himself?
A life without intimacy seems lacking. It is a hard to stomach the thought that I may never have sex in a conventional way for the rest of my life.
We are either headed for a divorce or the marriage will end when his weight kills him. I, personally, would rather divorce than watch him die from his weight.
Then, comes the question that triggered this entire thought process, should I bother investing in a business that will most likely be stolen from me in a divorce?
Decisions.....decisions.....decision...
I know he needs time but I can't keep doing this. As selfish as this sounds, this isn't a marriage and I don't want to keep living this way.
He has to try, doesn't he?
He doesn't owe me anything. What do I owe him?
This is hard.
Is that even possible at my age?
I don't know.
Love,
S.
I found an office and am close to signing a one year lease. I don't know if it is wise to use the little amount of money I made online to rent an office or to put towards a divorce.
I spoke to the man in the basement. He says wants to try to rekindle our relationship.
I don't know how.
When I tried to talk to him about his expectations and figure out the logistics of playing homemaker to him and having my own business, he just stared off into space. When I mentioned divorce, he yelled.
I stay with him because he can't handle the kids.
I don't make enough money to support them on my own.
Here's the rub....
For years, I thought I was sexually broken. I don't want to go into logistics but sex is difficult given our current situation. You'd have to be in this situation to understand. I've spoken to other women married to 500+ lb men and, yes, they have the same problems in the sack.
I'm not frigid. The weight makes it frustrating. I'm a very creative person and that is probably what made the relationship last as long as it did....but even creativity is limited to the laws of physics.
I also understand the psychology of sex.
Men need sex to feel close to women. Women need communication to feel close to men. The problems started when he stopped talking to me (something to do with a tiff between him and his mommy back in '01). If women service men they tend to talk and vice versa.
With this in mind, should a woman wanted to stop the "No Sex=No Communication" cycle, all she has to do is screw the guy.
What if she can't give it to him in a manner that is mutually fulfilling?
I'm seriously trying to figure out where I stand and what needs to happen in order to do right by everyone here.
Here's the deal.
The man weighed 350 pounds when we met. He had a 42" waist.
He was my friend. I didn't know he had feelings for me. When he admitted them, my family told me to stay away because of his weight. I was a recovering anorexic and they were afraid his weight would trigger my illness. It didn't. His family told me to stay away because of his hygiene; they said that I needed to get away because of my OCD. They were afraid his germs would destroy my teeth and my health - as if I never had exposure to germs or anything. His mother and sister can make me laugh like no one else can. Like kissing him will make my teeth fall out!!
After some thought, I gave into the idea of dating him. Love is blind I said. I can love the person despite his appearance I said.
Maybe I was wrong.
We've spent thousands of dollars on diets. I started cooking vegetarian meals, replaced milk with tofu, used fake butter and all that. He got down to 320 pounds.
Then, I found empty "Little Debbie" box in his car. I found a lot of them!
So, I started making baked goods, subsitituing the flour with soy protien powder (it can be done but one has to add a lot more liquid ingrediants to make up for the dryness).
He still bought the snack cakes.
I'm frustrated.
He now has a 54" waist. I will NOT go into the difficulties his weight is presenting. He is well over 500 pounds.
He refuses to buy life insurance. We do not have health insurance.
I don't understand how this is a good place to be.
How can I afford to stay? This is a fiscally dangerous situation.
It is also emotionally frustrating.
Last week I learned the hard way that I can't sleep with him. He can't sleep with me.
He wanted to try to work it out. I let him and it didn't go so well.
I learned that we could never share a bedroom.
I remember those days when we shared a bed and he was so heavy, I'd roll into the center of it in the middle of the night. I quickly learned to grab the edge of the bed on my side when I slept.
I still wake up clutching the side of the bed. I've slept alone since '07.
I bought a new pillow last night thinking that would ease my pain.
It felt nice but I broke down in tears. Now, crying in the middle of the night is nothing new. I've done it for over ten years.
It doesn't seem fair to be alone for so long. Maybe I'm being a baby but....something seems off.
How does he expect that we can we ever have a marriage?
How does one honor her marital vows with a man who calls himself her ex?
How does one honor her marital vows with a man she cannot get close with?
How can I invest in a man who will not invest in me? What if he won't invest in himself?
A life without intimacy seems lacking. It is a hard to stomach the thought that I may never have sex in a conventional way for the rest of my life.
We are either headed for a divorce or the marriage will end when his weight kills him. I, personally, would rather divorce than watch him die from his weight.
Then, comes the question that triggered this entire thought process, should I bother investing in a business that will most likely be stolen from me in a divorce?
Decisions.....decisions.....decision...
I know he needs time but I can't keep doing this. As selfish as this sounds, this isn't a marriage and I don't want to keep living this way.
He has to try, doesn't he?
He doesn't owe me anything. What do I owe him?
This is hard.
Is that even possible at my age?
I don't know.
Love,
S.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Little Dolls
I am an artist who comes from a long line of artists.
My mother, auntie, and grandmother were doll makers. They made cute little porcelain baby dolls.
I make scary dolls.
I'm working on a little guy named Jose. He's going into a handmade box with a mirror so that everything he does will be reflected back on him. If he's nice; people will be nice to him. If he keeps stealing money and hitting people, well...he'll either be broke or his bones will be broken.
Voodoo is not necessary in these cases. Thieves tend to associate with other thieves and have things stolen. People with chips on their shoulders tend to get them knocked off.
Today, I found myself pissed off at the antics of yet another judge stealing a child away from a mother without regard to the psychological, legal, or moral aspects of the situation. I saw it on a forum and tried explaining why what the judge did was wrong, very few people get it. They know what this person did was wrong, they just can't articulate the psychosocial aspects of the case well.
I worked as a victim's advocate for awhile. I hold an advanced degree in this area, I earned it when my ex was pulling the same crap with me. That knowledge helped me put a stop to his propensity to use the legal system to harass me.
I know a little something about what this official did and why it was wrong. Apparently, so does this judge: she has written several articles, describing what not to do in such cases, yet she did everything she wrote not to do in this case.
Why? One wonders if she wasn't bribed -or- blackmailed.
This judge obviously turned a blind eye to her own advice and is not behaving ethically with regard to this situation. Rather than get myself steamed, or write an article that will hurt the mother and child more if the judge and her cronies retaliate, I had another idea.
I decided to make another dolly and stick pins in its head in an effort to stimulate the judge's ability to think coherently and do the right thing for all three parties (the child, the father, and the mother) . What she did endangered the child and put undue stress on both mother and father. Let me try to explain what the judge did.
Here is the case in a nutshell: Dad was gone from child's life 95% of it after allegations of domestic violence. Ten years later he comes back wanting reduction in support and he walked out with sole custody while mom can't even see the child. No one said the mom was unfit. This guy probably wasn't prepared to be a dad so quickly as he was not slowly reintroduced to his son: this situation creates stress for dad, stress for mom, and an unsafe situation for the child. The judge did this the business day before Christmas, so this kid will needs years of psychotherapy and will probably come to hate Christmas as much as I do.
Again, based on the judge's writings when she wrote for legal websites, she knows better than to ignore allegations of abuse and steal a child away from one parent while turning him over to a complete stranger without a graduated visitation plan.
This doll's name is Julie. Her dress will be green, the color of fields.
While making Julie, it struck me that I could possibly make money selling my little dollies.
Ha!
And I can do it in plain sight and no one will blink. No one will know whether or not they are spelled. The won't know if they've been cursed. They'll just know they were made by a local artist using recycled materials
It's fun being an disgusted pagan*.
Love,
S.
P.S. I'm thinking about selling these to earn money to donate to the victim's legal fund. I'd best get crackin.
*who writes fiction
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Granny on the Roam
Alright...
I spent the day trying to figure out what was going on with my daughter. Then I spent the afternoon talking to other grannies (most of whom are 25 years older than I). Most grannies resent the generation Y sense of entitlement and have issues with them expecting free childcare. Granted, most of the women I spoke to have a retirement fund. Mine was raided. I have nothing to live on and I don't want to live in poverty the rest of my life.
I can't figure out how to be a free babysitter for my grand-daughter.
Four months ago, my daughter needed daycare so she could attend a meeting. The baby's father couldn't do it as he had to work, so my daughter took the newborn on public transportation, in the cold, to get to school and attend class (with the baby in tow).
I offered to watch the baby four hours a week, so my daughter could attend the class undistracted.
The baby's father pitched a fit because he liked to drive my daughter's car. Since he had the car, he had to drive the five miles to my house to drop the baby off. I couldn't do it as I have other duties in the morning at the public school.
Anyway, the father was to watch the child on his days off (Tuesdays and Thursdays ) while my daughter worked at an internship.
Then the baby's father got greedy. He said his boss wanted him available seven days a week, so he refused to watch his child at all. He expected me to watch the child on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. I didn't do it. My daughter would skip her internship on some of those days only to find that her boyfriend did not go to work!
He's playing her.
I really want to get back to work. I told him I could only watch the baby part-time until I found a job.
He pitched a fit.
I still watched the baby on Wednesdays. Even while running for office, I had the little tyke in tow while rehearsing my speeches, putting on my tv makeup, and fielding interviews from the press. There was one day, I had to basically hand off the baby to mom as I walked up to a podium.
On Christmas morning, around 3:00 am, the baby's daddy woke my daughter up and started with the 'can't watch our child routine'. Again, he claims his boss expects him to work seven days a week and either my daughter is to quit school or I am to watch their baby for free on the days she attends school.
Now, remember...he refuses to help with rent, with food, with utilities or anything. He is living off of the child support money her father sent to me during her teenage years and what she earned doing odd jobs. I gave her thousands of dollars in exchange for chores around the house so she could have something to move out with.
I wonder how my ex feels about this moocher living off of his dime and using the car he gave our daughter?
Worse, I am in a dead marriage. I'm just waiting to save up enough money to pay my legal fees and leave. I don't have a man taking care of me; I've got to man up. My savings is toast. I have no health insurance and haven't had any for nearly four years. I seriously need to get a job and maybe go back to school so I can earn a living.
This is freakin' killing me.
I don't want the baby hurt. This guy has threatened my daughter. How far can this go?
This guy scares the hell out of me. When I told my daughter that I couldn't be relied upon for daycare because I'm looking for a job, he took everything he owned out of the apartment and left her!
On CHRISTMAS DAY!!!
What a piece of work!!
So...my ex and I promised to help her get through college and told her she could move back to the house. I'll give up my room and move into the closet (it's the size of a small bedroom). We only agreed to help if he left and she were a single parent. My ex is never around, so it will be up to me to provide the childcare.
My family is working on a solution. I think my great aunties are going to help provide back up child care in the event I find a job. Here is the rub.
It looks like she's going to take him back now that we agreed to help! If she takes him back, I'm not sure I'm going to help provide free daycare at all..I don't like being manipulated.
It went from four hours a week to twenty in a matter of weeks. It will go from twenty to forty.
The only solution I have is to move...
It's something I'm considering anyway. Yet another activist friend of mine is being harassed by the government; in two weeks two of my friends had government officials traumatize their minor children (don't want to spill the details for fear of revealing their identities). If I stay, it is only a matter of time before they start harassing my daughters and grand-daughter. It happened to another candidate in the race I was in...it could happen to me, too.
It's time for Ms. Seigfred rabble-rouser to get the hell out of here.
Where should I go?
If I go to California, there will be so many dems to fight....if I go to Arizona there will be so many repugs to fight.
Is there a friendly moderate, libertarian place that would welcome a peace loving, hypnotist granny who enjoys playing bass guitar in country bands?
Maybe I'll visit Laramie...
Or Montana...
Or Texas...
nobody messes with Texans...
Love ya,
S.
I spent the day trying to figure out what was going on with my daughter. Then I spent the afternoon talking to other grannies (most of whom are 25 years older than I). Most grannies resent the generation Y sense of entitlement and have issues with them expecting free childcare. Granted, most of the women I spoke to have a retirement fund. Mine was raided. I have nothing to live on and I don't want to live in poverty the rest of my life.
I can't figure out how to be a free babysitter for my grand-daughter.
Four months ago, my daughter needed daycare so she could attend a meeting. The baby's father couldn't do it as he had to work, so my daughter took the newborn on public transportation, in the cold, to get to school and attend class (with the baby in tow).
I offered to watch the baby four hours a week, so my daughter could attend the class undistracted.
The baby's father pitched a fit because he liked to drive my daughter's car. Since he had the car, he had to drive the five miles to my house to drop the baby off. I couldn't do it as I have other duties in the morning at the public school.
Anyway, the father was to watch the child on his days off (Tuesdays and Thursdays ) while my daughter worked at an internship.
Then the baby's father got greedy. He said his boss wanted him available seven days a week, so he refused to watch his child at all. He expected me to watch the child on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. I didn't do it. My daughter would skip her internship on some of those days only to find that her boyfriend did not go to work!
He's playing her.
I really want to get back to work. I told him I could only watch the baby part-time until I found a job.
He pitched a fit.
I still watched the baby on Wednesdays. Even while running for office, I had the little tyke in tow while rehearsing my speeches, putting on my tv makeup, and fielding interviews from the press. There was one day, I had to basically hand off the baby to mom as I walked up to a podium.
On Christmas morning, around 3:00 am, the baby's daddy woke my daughter up and started with the 'can't watch our child routine'. Again, he claims his boss expects him to work seven days a week and either my daughter is to quit school or I am to watch their baby for free on the days she attends school.
Now, remember...he refuses to help with rent, with food, with utilities or anything. He is living off of the child support money her father sent to me during her teenage years and what she earned doing odd jobs. I gave her thousands of dollars in exchange for chores around the house so she could have something to move out with.
I wonder how my ex feels about this moocher living off of his dime and using the car he gave our daughter?
Worse, I am in a dead marriage. I'm just waiting to save up enough money to pay my legal fees and leave. I don't have a man taking care of me; I've got to man up. My savings is toast. I have no health insurance and haven't had any for nearly four years. I seriously need to get a job and maybe go back to school so I can earn a living.
This is freakin' killing me.
There is a little comfort in the fact that I cannot truthfully say that I haven't seen a dick in over three years; the last one I saw was 5' 7" and 215 lbs.
I don't want the baby hurt. This guy has threatened my daughter. How far can this go?
This guy scares the hell out of me. When I told my daughter that I couldn't be relied upon for daycare because I'm looking for a job, he took everything he owned out of the apartment and left her!
On CHRISTMAS DAY!!!
What a piece of work!!
So...my ex and I promised to help her get through college and told her she could move back to the house. I'll give up my room and move into the closet (it's the size of a small bedroom). We only agreed to help if he left and she were a single parent. My ex is never around, so it will be up to me to provide the childcare.
My family is working on a solution. I think my great aunties are going to help provide back up child care in the event I find a job. Here is the rub.
It looks like she's going to take him back now that we agreed to help! If she takes him back, I'm not sure I'm going to help provide free daycare at all..I don't like being manipulated.
It went from four hours a week to twenty in a matter of weeks. It will go from twenty to forty.
The only solution I have is to move...
It's something I'm considering anyway. Yet another activist friend of mine is being harassed by the government; in two weeks two of my friends had government officials traumatize their minor children (don't want to spill the details for fear of revealing their identities). If I stay, it is only a matter of time before they start harassing my daughters and grand-daughter. It happened to another candidate in the race I was in...it could happen to me, too.
It's time for Ms. Seigfred rabble-rouser to get the hell out of here.
Where should I go?
If I go to California, there will be so many dems to fight....if I go to Arizona there will be so many repugs to fight.
Is there a friendly moderate, libertarian place that would welcome a peace loving, hypnotist granny who enjoys playing bass guitar in country bands?
Maybe I'll visit Laramie...
Or Montana...
Or Texas...
nobody messes with Texans...
Love ya,
S.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Pissed off Gypsy
My student knocked up my daughter...
and stole her money....
he has the belief that I can babysit their daughter at his beck and call.
He threw a little tantrum when I said 'no' and packed up his clothes, stole her credit cards and left. I get the sense he thinks he can come back when I decide to watch his baby full time.
Now, that he left and won't pay child support, I WILL have to babysit his daughter so my daughter can finish school. That will cut into my ability to earn an income and fix the mess I'm in.
I'm a little pissed about being blamed and having to take continued economic hits due to stupid men.
This little boy knows who I am...
what I do....
Why in the world would anyone piss off a pagan?
The day this song fills my head and I identify with the woman dancing for money and doing anything she can to support a grandchild , I get pissed off about my having to drop everything to take care of the responsibilities of yet another stupid man who makes promises he can't keep.
I'm already cleaning up the messes of another lazy man. I can't take on the messes of this young moron.
This youngin' is going to be in a world of hurt.
I pray one of my friends takes away my little dolls from New Orleans and all my black headed pins.
I'm tempted to get the girls together and build a bonfire when the moon is full in Scorpio....or better yet...Aries.
There are times...
when I forget the promise I made as a little girl to never play with witchcraft.
I couldn't stand my mother's red door, my father's herbs, the candles, oil lamps, or potions.
I couldn't stand my sister's constant spells to sleep with rock stars. They worked, by the way. She became a well-known high priced hooker.
I never had to cast a spell for love. I met my true love as a child. I dreamt of him, drew him, wrote about him, met him, and lost him. I only asked to find him when I dreamt he broke his leg in a car crash six years ago and wanted to warn him. I didn't really cast it for him: It was cast to tell me the name of the guy in the dream and to bring him to me. That spell worked but it wasn't worth the effort; seeing each other brought us back a lot of emotional pain and he still managed to break his leg jumping out of a plane. He still drove the gold sedan that I saw in my dream; he paraded it around a parking lot while I sat in a borrowed car praying for his safety.
For the past six years, those dreams only make me miss him. I still dream that we dance in childish joy together. The only thing I can think to do is twirl in the back yard with a baggie of herbs meant to bring him joy. I can't remember what is in it...I have a list somewhere. I haven't spun around doing that for a year now...maybe I should...or maybe I should just leave his spirit the heck alone.
For the past six years, those dreams only make me miss him. I still dream that we dance in childish joy together. The only thing I can think to do is twirl in the back yard with a baggie of herbs meant to bring him joy. I can't remember what is in it...I have a list somewhere. I haven't spun around doing that for a year now...maybe I should...or maybe I should just leave his spirit the heck alone.
As an adult, there are times when black magic becomes tempting. Last time, I asked for one person to stop harassing me, she got in a car crash.
Then there was the spell on the mayor to keep him from having secret dealings; that one was a fiasco. It worked but, little did I know, I'd be one of the people revealing those dirty secrets.
So much power....so terrified to use it....so many magickal curios sitting in charging boxes out of sight of the full moon lest they regain their power.
Sigh....
When I was a little girl, my mother would dress me as a gypsy. I still look like that with my bohemian curls and long draping goddess skirts, tons of jewelry and ceremonial make-up.
The smell of frankinsense, rose and jasmine are constant companions. The day I smell like hemlock and/or pepper is the day you'd better freakin' run.
I had a couple of concoctions that I made that were supposed to help me not dream of my ex; honeysuckle and vervain I think. They didn't work. I even bathed in it before I ran into him the first time. I sat with him in a restaurant as he picked out one of the herbs that didn't wash out from my red hair, asking me what they were. Then, he pointed to an alleged jinn ring given to me by a man in Chile before asking me what the ring meant.
I didn't answer; the ring means that I am a horrible jinn-master. If I knew what I were doing, his leg would never have been broken, our hearts would be healed and I'd have enough money to fix the messes made by stupid, lying males and the dumb women who believe them.
Still, I may give the spell thingy another go...
When I was a little girl, my mother would dress me as a gypsy. I still look like that with my bohemian curls and long draping goddess skirts, tons of jewelry and ceremonial make-up.
The smell of frankinsense, rose and jasmine are constant companions. The day I smell like hemlock and/or pepper is the day you'd better freakin' run.
I had a couple of concoctions that I made that were supposed to help me not dream of my ex; honeysuckle and vervain I think. They didn't work. I even bathed in it before I ran into him the first time. I sat with him in a restaurant as he picked out one of the herbs that didn't wash out from my red hair, asking me what they were. Then, he pointed to an alleged jinn ring given to me by a man in Chile before asking me what the ring meant.
I didn't answer; the ring means that I am a horrible jinn-master. If I knew what I were doing, his leg would never have been broken, our hearts would be healed and I'd have enough money to fix the messes made by stupid, lying males and the dumb women who believe them.
Still, I may give the spell thingy another go...
The lil' boy left his hairy razor behind.
Oh, there is so damn much that an angry witch can do with that.
I'm tempted to make a vexation box on this boxing day.
Love ya,
S.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Holly and Hell
For several years, I had an online friend named Anthony who was an bit part actor in New York. We both had an interest in mentalism, hypnosis and teaching. He asked me out after numerous conversations about drama, drama queens and how the only place drama should occur is on the stage. We stopped talking when I told him I wouldn't date anyone because I haven't filed for divorce yet due to financial reasons.
Heck, I didn't think he was interested.
Still....his point stands. Drama kills!
There are days when I wish more men were like good ol' Tony.
I hate Christmas!
The little idiot that is abusing my daughter is up to somethin' stupid.
They got in a fight this morning over whether or not I can watch their child three days a week. If I can't do it, he wants my daughter to drop out of her final semester in college.
I was livid. We have sacrificed so much so that she could go to college, win a big scholarship and graduate without student loans.
I love their daughter but I'm not sure I can afford to stay home three days a week to babysit her, unless I can find the right job with the right hours. I can only agree to do it for a couple of weeks at a time, until I know what my financial situation looks like.
I just received a call that he's afraid of me. Apparently, he took his video games, some clothing, her credit cards and texted something to her about sleeping in the parking lot tonight.
So now, I'm waiting for my ex to drive me out to her apartment, change her locks, console her why she cancels the credit cards, scour the parking lot, and try to talk some sense into this moron.
It's 27 degrees. He doesn't own a coat.
I'll let you know if we find a frozen doggie in a silver sedan...
I betcha that he's not in the parking lot.
What do you want to bet he has a girlfriend on the side?
When I was in my early twenties, I took in a stray too...he chewed through my money, my credit, broke my right wrist, damaged my jaw, broke my teeth, and gave me several concussions.
Thankfully, a thoughtful bimbo took him off my hands. As of yesterday, she is still with him putting up with his abuse. Apparently, that dog threw a phone at our grandchild yesterday because Dominoes didn't deliver a pizza on time.
Do you want to know what makes this crappy?
My daughter replaced my computer for Christmas so that I could work from home. I'm begging her to take it back and keep the money.
Maybe I just need to sell my final bass and put the money in an account for her.
I hate Christmas!!
I hate presents!!
I hate tantrums!!
I hate male drama queens!!
So much for holiday joy.
Love ya,
Ms. Grinch.
Update: The little butt potato was not in the parking lot freezing his nards off. He had sent a text that he was staying with a friend...
Yeah...I bet he is.
Did I write about the filthy email he sent to me last January. He wrote to be on Facebook (a website that brings out the wicked in everybody)
and told me I was hot.
I replied that I was happy he thought that because my daughter will look just like me when she is my age. He gets a sneak peak at what he will wake up to twenty some odd years from now.
He kept writing to me. I kept fending him off.
Then he had the freakin' audacity to tell my daughter and ex-hubby that I came on to him.
My ex didn't believe him...he knows I'm an ice cube.
My daughter and I had this long drawn out talk about the choices young men get to make.
They can choose youth, strength and beauty
-or-
old, stamina, and experience.
They can choose tight skin, tight spaces, and acrobatic moves
-or-
flabby arms, bossy women, and nightmares.
She laughed.
I told her the wise ones will find someone their age, someone that likes the same music, someone that can develop their sexual tastes with them, and discover what they like together.
The dumb ones get caught up with the cougars who can't seem to connect to them as people, treat them like students, and damage their poor little eyes with their aged skin.
Then, I told her that I had my fill of young guys that didn't know what they were doing when I was much younger. She needn't worry. I like my wine a with a little more character.
She laughed again.
That boy is a freakin' moron. I guess she's in for 18.5 years of custody battles ahead. It's a good thing she's studying law.
Sadly, I may have to stay in this house a little longer until she gets back on her feet. She's probably going to move into the basement apartment and need a live-in babysitter. My ex will probably move out of the basement apartment so she can have it. He'll most likely want the bedroom back. I'll probably end up selling my shoes and moving into the walk-in closet (which is actually the size of a small bedroom).
We've already decided that we can't sleep together....ever....that is what makes the pain of living here so bad. It's cold at night.
I'll let you know how it goes.
At this rate, I don't know when it will ever be the right time to leave.
Damn...
Heck, I didn't think he was interested.
Still....his point stands. Drama kills!
There are days when I wish more men were like good ol' Tony.
I hate Christmas!
The little idiot that is abusing my daughter is up to somethin' stupid.
They got in a fight this morning over whether or not I can watch their child three days a week. If I can't do it, he wants my daughter to drop out of her final semester in college.
I was livid. We have sacrificed so much so that she could go to college, win a big scholarship and graduate without student loans.
I love their daughter but I'm not sure I can afford to stay home three days a week to babysit her, unless I can find the right job with the right hours. I can only agree to do it for a couple of weeks at a time, until I know what my financial situation looks like.
I just received a call that he's afraid of me. Apparently, he took his video games, some clothing, her credit cards and texted something to her about sleeping in the parking lot tonight.
So now, I'm waiting for my ex to drive me out to her apartment, change her locks, console her why she cancels the credit cards, scour the parking lot, and try to talk some sense into this moron.
It's 27 degrees. He doesn't own a coat.
I'll let you know if we find a frozen doggie in a silver sedan...
I betcha that he's not in the parking lot.
What do you want to bet he has a girlfriend on the side?
When I was in my early twenties, I took in a stray too...he chewed through my money, my credit, broke my right wrist, damaged my jaw, broke my teeth, and gave me several concussions.
Thankfully, a thoughtful bimbo took him off my hands. As of yesterday, she is still with him putting up with his abuse. Apparently, that dog threw a phone at our grandchild yesterday because Dominoes didn't deliver a pizza on time.
Do you want to know what makes this crappy?
My daughter replaced my computer for Christmas so that I could work from home. I'm begging her to take it back and keep the money.
Maybe I just need to sell my final bass and put the money in an account for her.
I hate Christmas!!
I hate presents!!
I hate tantrums!!
I hate male drama queens!!
So much for holiday joy.
Love ya,
Ms. Grinch.
Update: The little butt potato was not in the parking lot freezing his nards off. He had sent a text that he was staying with a friend...
Yeah...I bet he is.
Did I write about the filthy email he sent to me last January. He wrote to be on Facebook (a website that brings out the wicked in everybody)
and told me I was hot.
I replied that I was happy he thought that because my daughter will look just like me when she is my age. He gets a sneak peak at what he will wake up to twenty some odd years from now.
He kept writing to me. I kept fending him off.
Then he had the freakin' audacity to tell my daughter and ex-hubby that I came on to him.
My ex didn't believe him...he knows I'm an ice cube.
My daughter and I had this long drawn out talk about the choices young men get to make.
They can choose youth, strength and beauty
-or-
old, stamina, and experience.
They can choose tight skin, tight spaces, and acrobatic moves
-or-
flabby arms, bossy women, and nightmares.
She laughed.
I told her the wise ones will find someone their age, someone that likes the same music, someone that can develop their sexual tastes with them, and discover what they like together.
The dumb ones get caught up with the cougars who can't seem to connect to them as people, treat them like students, and damage their poor little eyes with their aged skin.
Then, I told her that I had my fill of young guys that didn't know what they were doing when I was much younger. She needn't worry. I like my wine a with a little more character.
She laughed again.
That boy is a freakin' moron. I guess she's in for 18.5 years of custody battles ahead. It's a good thing she's studying law.
Sadly, I may have to stay in this house a little longer until she gets back on her feet. She's probably going to move into the basement apartment and need a live-in babysitter. My ex will probably move out of the basement apartment so she can have it. He'll most likely want the bedroom back. I'll probably end up selling my shoes and moving into the walk-in closet (which is actually the size of a small bedroom).
We've already decided that we can't sleep together....ever....that is what makes the pain of living here so bad. It's cold at night.
I'll let you know how it goes.
At this rate, I don't know when it will ever be the right time to leave.
Damn...
Friday, December 23, 2011
On Christmas Memories
I haven't celebrated Christmas in over four years.
I bake the obligatory food and goodies. I buy gifts for the kids I know and miss my old friends.
I try not to fight with the ex.
This year, I've got a little grand baby.
She's a six month old redhead, with curly hair and beautiful blue-green mood eyes.
She likes hanging out in the kitchen.
Her mother says she only eats real food at my house.
I don't know about that.
One day, they dropped the two month old darling off so I could babysit and that little kid started sniffing in the air when I started baking cookies. She likes the smell of vanilla.
She also likes homemade candles scented with lavender and roses.
She really likes rose petals.
It's so cute. The moment she comes into the house her little mouth starts smacking like she's ready to eat.
So....
every week, the little sweetie gets to try a new flavor. She's had apples, peaches, peas, yams and bananas. Tomorrow she's going to try pears.
These aren't baby foods. Canned baby food is for dogs.
Grand babies get fresh veggies, cooked and ground up in the food processor.
She'll eat homemade food (except yams)....she does a full body spasm when confronted with yams.
She likes to cook with me. I give her a plastic spoon and let her pretend to cook. She has a lot of fun with that.
So, this year I'm doing what my mother did and hang out in the kitchen.
My mother made candy every year. I used to do that, too... until I quit having to entertain an army. When my in-laws stopped talking to me, I no longer had to service their hefty appetites.
But now, I have a little one who likes to sniff food.
Today, I made three kinds of fudge, toffee, and peanut brittle. I showed the kids how to make candy without a thermometer, gave them a sugar high, and wore them out on chocolate.
Now, I'm going to try to pawn a good chunck of this candy on the next person who rings my doorbell.
I just want the house to smell sweet for the grand baby and give her some happy memories.
Ah, memories...they're killing me today.
The last Christmas my mother was alive, she made peanut brittle. She slipped and her arm fell in the vat of hot caramel. I watched in horror as she pulled off her skin trying to get unstuck.
I hate the sight and smell of peanut brittle. It reminds me of a horror movie.
Thankfully, I'm snowed in and can't visit my family in the nearby town where I grew up to deliver the obligatory goodies (some for them and some for the dogs). I hate going back home, to my uncle's house for Christmas....it reminds me of Christmas in high school with my old flame sipping hot chocolate and me pretending to slip on the ice so I could grab him.
I hate the memories evoked by the smell of hot chocolate.
Visiting my uncle only makes it worse. His wife always invokes my old flame's name. His sister, my other auntie, isn't helping with her bull about his former FB friendship. I want to run away from home now....
Well...
I don't hate my old flame. It's just that I miss being around someone who understands me. I miss hanging around the only person in the world who made silence comfortable. If I could find another person with whom silence is acceptable, comfortable and not a cue to find something stupid to talk about, I'm snagging him.
I haven't found that in 25 years. He taught me that was possible. He doesn't get my politics (freedom and responsiblity), my antics (kill 'em with humor), my sense of humor (parched) or my sense of loyalty (friends to the end even if we're both a little unwell). I'm sorry..
Sigh...Christmas is about reflection. Why in the heck do I do these things that bring back guilty memories of making my old flame haul ten pounds of flour and five pounds of sugar to my house so I can bake him cookies? He didn't have to do that...but I'm a girl...he's old fashioned...he followed me to the store and wouldn't let me carry the bags five miles in the snow to get them home.
He wasn't wearing a coat, gloves, or a scarf. I felt so bad, I bought him a scarf and gloves. My Grandfather found a black coat for him. He wore it even though it looked like something a geezer would wear.
Twenty some years later, I still feel guilty about that. The cookies weren't that good because I was distracted making them. I don't let guys carry my bags anymore. I don't let them open doors for me. I don't let them hold my coat. Let me tell you, I'd suck as a politican because the first thing political advisors tell you is to act like you're too important to carry your purse, open your doors and hold your own coat. What wussies!!
Where was I...oh, reflection...
My first reflection is that I truly hate Facebook, Classmates.com, and Reunion.com. Without those stupid sites, he would never have found me to remind me what love and friendship feels like. I'd have been happy in my dead, loveless marriage with my own bedroom, frilly bed coverings and rose scented candles. He'd have just been a distant memory...but...alas...it's too freakin' late to stop that mind-screw.
Upon further reflection, I realize that I want the house to smell like Christmas for the grand baby. Smells can be powerful triggers of past memories. I want the house to smell like Christmas. I want her and the other kiddos to feel loved. I want them to remember being loved when they smell apple pie, chocolate, sugar cookies or homemade bread.
That's why I'm acting like my mother.
The problem is that I'm trying not to cry. Things are hurtful and confusing. It's cold in the middle of the night. This is an awkward place to be....marital limbo.
I did learn one important thing yesterday.
I had to go to the store to buy the ingredients for Christmas dinner. There was this hot guy in the grocery store who was interested in the contents of my cart.
He followed me in several isles.
He smiled.
I smiled.
After awhile his presence made me uncomfortable. I began putting in the ingredients for my famous homemade puppy treats; whole wheat flour, corn meal, baby food carrots, baby food beef, calf liver, chicken liver....
I didn't see too much of him after that.
Interesting...
Now, ladies, you know how to get rid of those men who try to pick you up at the grocery store....
pick up a pound or two of calf liver.
It works like a charm.
I swear, the grocery store is certainly the one place where one can find the most hungry men... if you have the food in your card that makes them wretch and puke, they'll go away.
Merry Christmas,
S.
I bake the obligatory food and goodies. I buy gifts for the kids I know and miss my old friends.
I try not to fight with the ex.
This year, I've got a little grand baby.
She's a six month old redhead, with curly hair and beautiful blue-green mood eyes.
She likes hanging out in the kitchen.
Her mother says she only eats real food at my house.
I don't know about that.
One day, they dropped the two month old darling off so I could babysit and that little kid started sniffing in the air when I started baking cookies. She likes the smell of vanilla.
She also likes homemade candles scented with lavender and roses.
She really likes rose petals.
It's so cute. The moment she comes into the house her little mouth starts smacking like she's ready to eat.
So....
every week, the little sweetie gets to try a new flavor. She's had apples, peaches, peas, yams and bananas. Tomorrow she's going to try pears.
These aren't baby foods. Canned baby food is for dogs.
Grand babies get fresh veggies, cooked and ground up in the food processor.
She'll eat homemade food (except yams)....she does a full body spasm when confronted with yams.
She likes to cook with me. I give her a plastic spoon and let her pretend to cook. She has a lot of fun with that.
So, this year I'm doing what my mother did and hang out in the kitchen.
My mother made candy every year. I used to do that, too... until I quit having to entertain an army. When my in-laws stopped talking to me, I no longer had to service their hefty appetites.
But now, I have a little one who likes to sniff food.
Today, I made three kinds of fudge, toffee, and peanut brittle. I showed the kids how to make candy without a thermometer, gave them a sugar high, and wore them out on chocolate.
Now, I'm going to try to pawn a good chunck of this candy on the next person who rings my doorbell.
I just want the house to smell sweet for the grand baby and give her some happy memories.
Ah, memories...they're killing me today.
The last Christmas my mother was alive, she made peanut brittle. She slipped and her arm fell in the vat of hot caramel. I watched in horror as she pulled off her skin trying to get unstuck.
I hate the sight and smell of peanut brittle. It reminds me of a horror movie.
Thankfully, I'm snowed in and can't visit my family in the nearby town where I grew up to deliver the obligatory goodies (some for them and some for the dogs). I hate going back home, to my uncle's house for Christmas....it reminds me of Christmas in high school with my old flame sipping hot chocolate and me pretending to slip on the ice so I could grab him.
I hate the memories evoked by the smell of hot chocolate.
Visiting my uncle only makes it worse. His wife always invokes my old flame's name. His sister, my other auntie, isn't helping with her bull about his former FB friendship. I want to run away from home now....
Well...
I don't hate my old flame. It's just that I miss being around someone who understands me. I miss hanging around the only person in the world who made silence comfortable. If I could find another person with whom silence is acceptable, comfortable and not a cue to find something stupid to talk about, I'm snagging him.
I haven't found that in 25 years. He taught me that was possible. He doesn't get my politics (freedom and responsiblity), my antics (kill 'em with humor), my sense of humor (parched) or my sense of loyalty (friends to the end even if we're both a little unwell). I'm sorry..
Sigh...Christmas is about reflection. Why in the heck do I do these things that bring back guilty memories of making my old flame haul ten pounds of flour and five pounds of sugar to my house so I can bake him cookies? He didn't have to do that...but I'm a girl...he's old fashioned...he followed me to the store and wouldn't let me carry the bags five miles in the snow to get them home.
He wasn't wearing a coat, gloves, or a scarf. I felt so bad, I bought him a scarf and gloves. My Grandfather found a black coat for him. He wore it even though it looked like something a geezer would wear.
Twenty some years later, I still feel guilty about that. The cookies weren't that good because I was distracted making them. I don't let guys carry my bags anymore. I don't let them open doors for me. I don't let them hold my coat. Let me tell you, I'd suck as a politican because the first thing political advisors tell you is to act like you're too important to carry your purse, open your doors and hold your own coat. What wussies!!
Where was I...oh, reflection...
My first reflection is that I truly hate Facebook, Classmates.com, and Reunion.com. Without those stupid sites, he would never have found me to remind me what love and friendship feels like. I'd have been happy in my dead, loveless marriage with my own bedroom, frilly bed coverings and rose scented candles. He'd have just been a distant memory...but...alas...it's too freakin' late to stop that mind-screw.
Upon further reflection, I realize that I want the house to smell like Christmas for the grand baby. Smells can be powerful triggers of past memories. I want the house to smell like Christmas. I want her and the other kiddos to feel loved. I want them to remember being loved when they smell apple pie, chocolate, sugar cookies or homemade bread.
That's why I'm acting like my mother.
The problem is that I'm trying not to cry. Things are hurtful and confusing. It's cold in the middle of the night. This is an awkward place to be....marital limbo.
I did learn one important thing yesterday.
I had to go to the store to buy the ingredients for Christmas dinner. There was this hot guy in the grocery store who was interested in the contents of my cart.
He followed me in several isles.
He smiled.
I smiled.
After awhile his presence made me uncomfortable. I began putting in the ingredients for my famous homemade puppy treats; whole wheat flour, corn meal, baby food carrots, baby food beef, calf liver, chicken liver....
I didn't see too much of him after that.
Interesting...
Now, ladies, you know how to get rid of those men who try to pick you up at the grocery store....
pick up a pound or two of calf liver.
It works like a charm.
I swear, the grocery store is certainly the one place where one can find the most hungry men... if you have the food in your card that makes them wretch and puke, they'll go away.
Merry Christmas,
S.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Happy Yule
Today is my Christmas but I was so darn busy preparing for the Christian holiday that I totally missed my own celebration.
It is a sad day. I wanted to spend a day of great power cursing the heck out of people who drive me insane by harassing people I know, love, and/or admire.
We had a local tax activist convicted of trumped up charges today. I actually know people who were hauled into the distract attorney's office for depositions while lawyers tried to find dirt on this poor man.
The Feds had checked into his taxes and ruled that he did nothing wrong. The state followed suit and made crap up. He now faces twelve years in prision for tax evasion. The details seem sketchy to me.
And, they don't harass activists out in my neck of the woods, do they?
Sure, they do.
They have police officers stand in your back yard on pagan holidays.
When you report it, you look incredibly paranoid.
Or, maybe the cop was hoping I would build a bonfire and run around naked for him.
I'm old. The girls hang. I hurts when I run and kick them.
Sorry buddy... this crone doesn't do that.
Bureaucrats like to make us sound crazy but this fiction writing is crazier than anything they could say about me.
It's a lot of fun to pretend to be nuts in order to keep nuts away. The problem, though, is that this tactic doesn't work as much as I thought it would.
Like attracts like.
By acting insane, I bring more insane people my way.
I think I am still trying to get the political energy out of my aura. That group is comprised of so many nasty, filthy vampiric people. I am no longer afraid of the sanguine as I have truly met real human blood-suckers.
What in the hell did I do to bring these kind of abusive a-holes into my life?
This has led to me take a deep look at my relationships. Twenty-five years ago, I swore off artists and musicians as relationship partners; I thought they had a lot of mood swings. When they'd get pissy, they'd claim it was because they were passionate artists. After a couple of these experiences and a date with a guy lusting after my 5-string Steinberger, I started dating mechanics and accountants.
Here's the deal. The artists pout. They create bizarre paintings and not very flattering portraits of you when they are angry.
The musicians pout. They create the most discordant sounds when irritated.
They've never hit me.
The mechanics and the accountants are physically, mentally, and financially abusive.
I think I screwed up there. If I could have done it differently, I would have married the creative guy who would let me hold the job so he could stay home and do his art on the computer or strum his guitar.
Instead, I married the control freak who wanted to make me his live-in housekeeper. That's what I am.
I'm getting too chunky. I wasn't build for a size 12 frame. I miss being a size 5. They say that women who marry obese men have a 37% chance of becoming obese. That's true. If we don't eat, we are unsociable. The food that fills this house really isn't food; the crap we have is loaded with so many preservatives its a wonder that anyone in this house actually ages!!
I can't work out when he's home because the weight set is in the basement (where he lives). I've gained so much weight since he lost his job at the city, I'm sick. He was home a lot!! Then, of course, I really do want a workout partner.
I know this guy who is trying to sell me on the case for consensual sex.
He's hot...but...
NO!
I'm married. I'm fat. I'm in love with some guy I chased off because he was whining about me and it cost him an interested and available woman. And, that's another issue there. My aunt today told me that everyone knew that this guy loved me based on the things he would write on my Facebook page.
No way....I'm fat! Five hundred extra calories a day is enough to keep the men away!
I'm seriously thinking about running away, changing my appearance, and changing my name. That's how I ran away from him the first time twenty years ago
This time I'll just parade around in my size twelve natural fat suit. That ought to scare everyone away.
My weight is bugging me. I saw myself on TV. It's true. The camera does add 10 pounds. Those dinners I have to make coupled with the lack of a nookie workout adds the other 20.
No worries. I know people who actually think that the world will end a year from today, so if I don't clean up the mess I'm in ....the universe will take care of my problems for me.
How fun is that?
I guess I'll plan a huge party for 12-22-2012 just to be a rebel. Wanna come?
Love,
S.
It is a sad day. I wanted to spend a day of great power cursing the heck out of people who drive me insane by harassing people I know, love, and/or admire.
We had a local tax activist convicted of trumped up charges today. I actually know people who were hauled into the distract attorney's office for depositions while lawyers tried to find dirt on this poor man.
The Feds had checked into his taxes and ruled that he did nothing wrong. The state followed suit and made crap up. He now faces twelve years in prision for tax evasion. The details seem sketchy to me.
And, they don't harass activists out in my neck of the woods, do they?
Sure, they do.
They have police officers stand in your back yard on pagan holidays.
When you report it, you look incredibly paranoid.
Or, maybe the cop was hoping I would build a bonfire and run around naked for him.
I'm old. The girls hang. I hurts when I run and kick them.
Sorry buddy... this crone doesn't do that.
Bureaucrats like to make us sound crazy but this fiction writing is crazier than anything they could say about me.
It's a lot of fun to pretend to be nuts in order to keep nuts away. The problem, though, is that this tactic doesn't work as much as I thought it would.
Like attracts like.
By acting insane, I bring more insane people my way.
I think I am still trying to get the political energy out of my aura. That group is comprised of so many nasty, filthy vampiric people. I am no longer afraid of the sanguine as I have truly met real human blood-suckers.
What in the hell did I do to bring these kind of abusive a-holes into my life?
This has led to me take a deep look at my relationships. Twenty-five years ago, I swore off artists and musicians as relationship partners; I thought they had a lot of mood swings. When they'd get pissy, they'd claim it was because they were passionate artists. After a couple of these experiences and a date with a guy lusting after my 5-string Steinberger, I started dating mechanics and accountants.
Here's the deal. The artists pout. They create bizarre paintings and not very flattering portraits of you when they are angry.
The musicians pout. They create the most discordant sounds when irritated.
They've never hit me.
The mechanics and the accountants are physically, mentally, and financially abusive.
I think I screwed up there. If I could have done it differently, I would have married the creative guy who would let me hold the job so he could stay home and do his art on the computer or strum his guitar.
Instead, I married the control freak who wanted to make me his live-in housekeeper. That's what I am.
I'm getting too chunky. I wasn't build for a size 12 frame. I miss being a size 5. They say that women who marry obese men have a 37% chance of becoming obese. That's true. If we don't eat, we are unsociable. The food that fills this house really isn't food; the crap we have is loaded with so many preservatives its a wonder that anyone in this house actually ages!!
I can't work out when he's home because the weight set is in the basement (where he lives). I've gained so much weight since he lost his job at the city, I'm sick. He was home a lot!! Then, of course, I really do want a workout partner.
I know this guy who is trying to sell me on the case for consensual sex.
He's hot...but...
NO!
I'm married. I'm fat. I'm in love with some guy I chased off because he was whining about me and it cost him an interested and available woman. And, that's another issue there. My aunt today told me that everyone knew that this guy loved me based on the things he would write on my Facebook page.
No way....I'm fat! Five hundred extra calories a day is enough to keep the men away!
I'm seriously thinking about running away, changing my appearance, and changing my name. That's how I ran away from him the first time twenty years ago
This time I'll just parade around in my size twelve natural fat suit. That ought to scare everyone away.
My weight is bugging me. I saw myself on TV. It's true. The camera does add 10 pounds. Those dinners I have to make coupled with the lack of a nookie workout adds the other 20.
No worries. I know people who actually think that the world will end a year from today, so if I don't clean up the mess I'm in ....the universe will take care of my problems for me.
How fun is that?
I guess I'll plan a huge party for 12-22-2012 just to be a rebel. Wanna come?
Love,
S.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
An Attempted Lesson in Compassion
So...
I was talking to the man in the basement. I attempted to explain how his father could not understand how nasty his wife truly is.
His father has three different types of cancer. He may not be on this plane of existence much longer. If the man wants a relationship with his father, he must act now lest the opportunity be stripped from him.
His mother was a nasty gossip. She'd meddle in nearly everything. She'd send people into my workplaces trying to get me fired. She harassed my landlord so I'd get evicted; her aim was to force me to move in with her son. She sent her daughter to visit with my academic advisor to whine about how school was making me into a bad wife, which backfired.
What else did she do?
She had her daughter pull a gun on our neighbors. She threatened to lie to the police and social services about me.
Let's just say that the woman is not very nice.
The woman chased her 60 pound Siberian Husky with a broom one day, smacking it in the head. The dog ran straight into the back yard and ran into our one year old daughter, tossing her up in the air. The child landed on her back. When I told my husband how his daughter got bruises on her back, his mother denied abusing the dog and claimed that the dog had nothing to do with it.
He told his father. His father sided with his mother, called me a liar and disowned him.
I did get a half-hearted apology from his mother; she had to lie to her husband because she was afraid that the dog would have been put down if the truth came out.
.
I can see why he's angry. Apparently he was severely abused as a child. His parents left him with a traumatic brain injury that still impacts him to this very day.
If he really wants to see his dad, it may be helpful to understand that his dad may not appreciate the antics of his wife. His dad may have his blinders on.
That happens when men are in love and get their stuff taken care of. It's natural.
He didn't believe me.
So, I thoughtfully concocted an unlikely scenario in hopes of reaching him.
"What would you do" I asked "if the police showed up at your door, claiming I was running through the city building with a bunch of men, pretending to be lady liberty with one aged breast hanging out of my dress, brandishing a rifle, and ranting in French about freedom?"
I was hoping he'd say that I'd never do such a thing.
But no! His reply shocked me.
"I'd ask what they did to piss you off!!"
Damn....
He knows me.
Love ya,
S.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Songs Siegfred Would Like Record
There are a plethora of songs that should have been sung by horny women. I'll name a couple due to the lack of time.
This would be like an auditory instructional. The nonsensical nature wouldn't matter to any man once I utter the word "come".
Then there is this gem from Foreigner. I'd only have to change a couple of lyrics.
Instead of "guy", I would sing "thighs"
and I'd replace "it again" with "me again"
....but other than that with a couple of the right moans and moves, this could be exceptionally hot.
Yes, the man in the basement is amused by my blog and yes, I'm trying to get a new guitar for Christmas.
Wish me luck,
S.
P.S. There is a tiny group of people who had better freakin' pray they leave my family alone. I've discovered something that has pissed me off to the point of writing a song and doing a series of dark paintings called called Donielle...
The things I discovered may be "old"....may they be the last of it.
Don't mess with an artist.
Our work will live well beyond any idiot's antics.
This would be like an auditory instructional. The nonsensical nature wouldn't matter to any man once I utter the word "come".
Then there is this gem from Foreigner. I'd only have to change a couple of lyrics.
Instead of "guy", I would sing "thighs"
and I'd replace "it again" with "me again"
....but other than that with a couple of the right moans and moves, this could be exceptionally hot.
Yes, the man in the basement is amused by my blog and yes, I'm trying to get a new guitar for Christmas.
Wish me luck,
S.
P.S. There is a tiny group of people who had better freakin' pray they leave my family alone. I've discovered something that has pissed me off to the point of writing a song and doing a series of dark paintings called called Donielle...
The things I discovered may be "old"....may they be the last of it.
Don't mess with an artist.
Our work will live well beyond any idiot's antics.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
I'm Going to Have To Move SOON!
Damn it...
For three years, I've been harassed by somebody who works in the city in which I live.
I'm pretty sure the problems emanate from one of the lawyers in the legal department, one who is friendly to my estranged husband's former boss.
The harassment went well into my campaign for mayor. It seemed to stop after I was quizzed about a lawsuit in October.
We have done open records requests and learned that the city is taking video of every car and recording license plate numbers and the time that each car travels down the major intersections by way of red light cameras.
This scares the hell of out me. They are tracking our travel patterns.
I have twelve websites; of these, five are political in nature. One of these deals specifically with the illegal behavior of this city. It has been hacked numerous times. Everyday I have to fight off at least one hack attack. Today there were two. Yesterday there were four. This is getting old very quickly.
I've traced the IP. The attacks appear to emanate from an area within 25 miles of my home.
Someone is up to something. I just don't know who is doing what.
Today I read that the US government is going to give the local police department permission to use drones to spy on US Citizens.
That's it.
I'm going to have to move.
The man in the basement promised to allow me to sell the house.
Now, he wants to stay in this house.
I can't.
I'm too damn scared.
I did write about the abuses I endured from people at the city in this blog as I was afraid that I would end up killed after a particularly bizarre threat. There have been false 911 calls, abusive emails, city cars sitting outside of my house day and night. Once I found a police officer on my property claiming a fugitive was at large (nope...I checked with the supervisor on that one), I was threatened with arrest for things that are not illegal such as leaving my gate unlocked and my garage door open. There have been bizarre phone calls from people claiming to work for the city. There have been rumors about my private life made public by the head of the tax audit department (they actually led to the estrangement of my husband and myself). The worst threat was one to have me audited. They even went so far as to have the head of the Human Resource department tell me that I needed a business license if I had a hobby in this city, even if I rented an office in author municipality.
Those antics are the reason why I became an activist. They've done far worse to other people. Besides, if I am in the public eye and something happens - people may notice.
This is why I dabbled in politics. They've done far worse to famous politicians. We give some of our civil servants too much power if congresspeople are terrified to report problems within the local government.
I'm shocked at what I've discovered.
I documented everything I could on this blog and copied them to two others. I hid those posts during my campaign for office and am trying to carve out time to replace them.
I still have not met the lady that started this. I did meet several of the people she has harassed over the past three years. I also learned that she was dating a cop (which could explain the harassment I endured at the hands of the police department). I have met far too many people who have stories are similar to mine.
I don't think its over yet.
I've got to get the heck out of dodge and move out into the country. I'll never feel safe here, even if I were the mayor.
Just because I am paranoid does not make me wrong.
Check it out for yourself: http://usnews.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2011/12/15/9476623-domestic-drones-coming-soon-over-a-home-near-you
It's funny....someone pointed out that I dress like a dominatrix. Maybe that's not such a bad thing. If the bullshit starts up again, I'll just grab a couple of whips I still have from my days working in the horse trade.
This does remind me of a bumper sticker that I'm too conservative to put on my car
It reads
"Don't mess with me. I wear heels bigger than your dick."
There are days when I want to ram my 7" heels up someone's @$$...
then I meditate.
Damn....this is one weird world I'm living in.
Love,
S.
For three years, I've been harassed by somebody who works in the city in which I live.
I'm pretty sure the problems emanate from one of the lawyers in the legal department, one who is friendly to my estranged husband's former boss.
The harassment went well into my campaign for mayor. It seemed to stop after I was quizzed about a lawsuit in October.
We have done open records requests and learned that the city is taking video of every car and recording license plate numbers and the time that each car travels down the major intersections by way of red light cameras.
This scares the hell of out me. They are tracking our travel patterns.
I have twelve websites; of these, five are political in nature. One of these deals specifically with the illegal behavior of this city. It has been hacked numerous times. Everyday I have to fight off at least one hack attack. Today there were two. Yesterday there were four. This is getting old very quickly.
I've traced the IP. The attacks appear to emanate from an area within 25 miles of my home.
Someone is up to something. I just don't know who is doing what.
Today I read that the US government is going to give the local police department permission to use drones to spy on US Citizens.
That's it.
I'm going to have to move.
The man in the basement promised to allow me to sell the house.
Now, he wants to stay in this house.
I can't.
I'm too damn scared.
I did write about the abuses I endured from people at the city in this blog as I was afraid that I would end up killed after a particularly bizarre threat. There have been false 911 calls, abusive emails, city cars sitting outside of my house day and night. Once I found a police officer on my property claiming a fugitive was at large (nope...I checked with the supervisor on that one), I was threatened with arrest for things that are not illegal such as leaving my gate unlocked and my garage door open. There have been bizarre phone calls from people claiming to work for the city. There have been rumors about my private life made public by the head of the tax audit department (they actually led to the estrangement of my husband and myself). The worst threat was one to have me audited. They even went so far as to have the head of the Human Resource department tell me that I needed a business license if I had a hobby in this city, even if I rented an office in author municipality.
Those antics are the reason why I became an activist. They've done far worse to other people. Besides, if I am in the public eye and something happens - people may notice.
This is why I dabbled in politics. They've done far worse to famous politicians. We give some of our civil servants too much power if congresspeople are terrified to report problems within the local government.
I'm shocked at what I've discovered.
I documented everything I could on this blog and copied them to two others. I hid those posts during my campaign for office and am trying to carve out time to replace them.
I still have not met the lady that started this. I did meet several of the people she has harassed over the past three years. I also learned that she was dating a cop (which could explain the harassment I endured at the hands of the police department). I have met far too many people who have stories are similar to mine.
I don't think its over yet.
I've got to get the heck out of dodge and move out into the country. I'll never feel safe here, even if I were the mayor.
Just because I am paranoid does not make me wrong.
Check it out for yourself: http://usnews.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2011/12/15/9476623-domestic-drones-coming-soon-over-a-home-near-you
It's funny....someone pointed out that I dress like a dominatrix. Maybe that's not such a bad thing. If the bullshit starts up again, I'll just grab a couple of whips I still have from my days working in the horse trade.
This does remind me of a bumper sticker that I'm too conservative to put on my car
It reads
"Don't mess with me. I wear heels bigger than your dick."
There are days when I want to ram my 7" heels up someone's @$$...
then I meditate.
Damn....this is one weird world I'm living in.
Love,
S.
Honoring My Ancestors
My Dad used to say that the spirits of our ancestors speak to us in our dreams. He also warned that we must take heed when we dream of our departed loved ones.
I dreamt my mother called me.
We chatted about Christmas, about her granddaughters and her great-granddaughter. She asked about my life and I told her that I miss being married.
I miss being with someone at night. I miss flirting with someone in public and dislike having to miss my friends' gigs because I don't have a male escort to hang with.
I hate trying to ditch horny drunks.
I miss doing things that polite women don't speak of in public.
For eleven years, my husband has been distant. It's been over 3 1/2 years since we were coupled. I'm lonely. I wish the economy would improve so we could both move on.
At this point, my mother became speechless.
I hear the phone move.
There is a new pattern of breathing on the line.
It's my dad.
He notes in his most sarcastic voice, in the way only he could
In my dream, I find myself staring at the floor in stunned silence. Inviting the man in the basement along would be the only way seeing someone else wouldn't be cheating at least until we get a lawyer to draft those papers and get them signed.
I woke up a little freaked out because even though dad's been gone 25 years years now, I know he would say something like that just to get me to think.
Dad always did have a way with words.
I'm pretty sure that the next time a guy comes on to me, I'm going to break out in a fit of laughter because I will think about that dream and hear my dad saying
"What in the hell do you want?"
Then I'll see an internal vision that will make me shudder.
I dreamt my mother called me.
We chatted about Christmas, about her granddaughters and her great-granddaughter. She asked about my life and I told her that I miss being married.
I miss being with someone at night. I miss flirting with someone in public and dislike having to miss my friends' gigs because I don't have a male escort to hang with.
I hate trying to ditch horny drunks.
I miss doing things that polite women don't speak of in public.
For eleven years, my husband has been distant. It's been over 3 1/2 years since we were coupled. I'm lonely. I wish the economy would improve so we could both move on.
At this point, my mother became speechless.
I hear the phone move.
There is a new pattern of breathing on the line.
It's my dad.
He notes in his most sarcastic voice, in the way only he could
"You know, you're not divorced yet. What in the hell do you want? A threesome?
It's your life kid, whatever rocks your boat.
We love you anyhow."
In my dream, I find myself staring at the floor in stunned silence. Inviting the man in the basement along would be the only way seeing someone else wouldn't be cheating at least until we get a lawyer to draft those papers and get them signed.
I woke up a little freaked out because even though dad's been gone 25 years years now, I know he would say something like that just to get me to think.
Dad always did have a way with words.
I'm pretty sure that the next time a guy comes on to me, I'm going to break out in a fit of laughter because I will think about that dream and hear my dad saying
"What in the hell do you want?"
Then I'll see an internal vision that will make me shudder.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
I'm in Love
Truth is, I have no where to put it and if I owned it, I'd resell it to help the neighbors get gifts for their kiddos...
Still, an old lady can dream.
And...
I always did look good in Au.
Now, that I think of it, there may be a olive colored accoustic guitar that looks like this in my closet somewhere. It was given to me by a older woman who kept her grandfather's guitar in a crawlspace in a highly variable climate (((shudder))) for a couple of decades. If I remember right, the neck is warped. I took it thinking that I could rescue the circa '60s guitar from the landfill, repair it, and give it to one of her grandchildren.
I guess I have a new project.
Anyone know a luthier looking for some dough?
Scratch that, I know a couple.
Maybe I'll call the guy who promised to make me a bass if I stayed away from the guy in the basement. Alas....I failed to meet my end of the bargain. Maybe someday, I'll get the scratch to pay him to make me a 5-string dream.
Someday....
Love ya,
S.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Occupy Wallstreet and XXX-mass
a lot.
I was a size 10 (or by today's standards an 8) in high school. I attribute that size to having cute boys take me out for lunch all the time. After I quit dating, I dropped down to a size 5.
Until '08, I could still wear my high school wardrobe (most of the time).
Our finances took a dive in '09, we became dirt poor and I subsisted off of microwave popcorn.
I hit a size 14/16...
gasp!!
That hurt. I quickly went on a diet and I'm left with skin that is freakin' me out man.
Glycolic acid is my new best friend.
I can see why the man in the basement is...well... living in the basement. I'm not what I once was.
I went from hot.....
to not.
I'm back down to a 10/12 but those last 17 pounds are driving me insane. They've hung on my midsection for over 18 months now.
I'm pretty sure that my weight gain correlated with my giving up my vegan lifestyle; I had too....it was too expensive and the soy made my hair fall out. I'd rather have nice long hair than a boney frame any day of the week.
My skin looks like a maze of imperfections and I still have some lumps and bumps in places that is driving me bonkers. I'm not much to look at.
I worked out so damn much that I hurt my hip a couple of weeks ago and can't put on my shoes the way I normally do.
Please don't laugh.
I'm getting older.
I went whining to my elders about it. I usually put my shoes on standing up on one leg, with the other leg lifted across the alternate knee, in a figure four fashion.
I can't do that anymore without pain. I'm going to have to get into yoga or something to regain my flexibility.
My auntie told me that people don't usually put their shoes on like that. She showed me how she does it. She sits down, lifts one leg straight up a couple of inches and puts on her shoes. That works like a charm.
I feel stupid. Hey, to be fair, I haven't seen another human being get dressed in several years now.
Still, I feel like an out of shape dolt.
At least, until today....
I saw an news story hailing from San Francisco.
Occupy wall street is protecting the rights of wanna-be Santas to be nude.
Alrighty then....
I guess they are still believing that liberal crap about global warming. We can cure the social ills of exhibitionism and greedy corporatist philosophy in one fell swoop.
Why don't we ship 'em off to the north pole? Once the shrinkage sets in, I'm sure those naked guys will put on their pants and the ladies their shirts. The others may get a sense that, perhaps, their buddy Al Gore just wanted to sell a couple of books and get rich off of their latest cap and trade scheme selling carbon credits.
If you want to check out the story for yourself, you can see it here:
http://zombietime.com/sf_puts_the_x_back_in_xmas/
As far as myself, I decided a long time ago that I had far too many body issues to run around skyclad in public.
The pics of the people made me feel better about my curvy/chunky/lardy frame. Yet, these naked christmassy folks have inspired me to double my work-out tomorrow.
Eeek!
Love,
S.
P.S. Here's one for the road:
Monday, December 12, 2011
Siegfred Seduction Gone Wrong
I don't know what to do.
I did the best I could. He said he wants to work things out. He says he loves me.
So, I dressed up and we did Christmassy things.
I took him to our teenage hangout at the mall. There is nothing like roaming a giant labyrinth, smelling gingerbread and other homey smells, taking in the sights and sounds of the holiday season to make someone feel love.
I thought it worked....
but alas
It got me a simple 'good-night'.
My final thought of the night was that marriage is one constant act of seduction and if my stripper boots and low cut dresses don't do it for him, nothing will.
Maybe this is how it's supposed to be after twenty years.
Maybe this is a normal marriage.
Then, why do I feel so sad?
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Freaky Dreams
I am awakened at 4:30 in the morning with an image of a man in black staring into a frozen river running through drifts of hardened snow.
Every single day...
Why?
Love,
S.
P.S. Dear friend, I'm here if you need to talk.
When the dreams happen around four, it's always the same person. His emails are generally time stamped for the time I wake up. Last night it was 4:33 and my clock is a little slow.
It seems that if he is afraid to contact me in person, his soul doesn't feel the same way.
Friendship is not such a frightful thing, especially when we have our wits about us.
There are days when I think it is easier to keep track of him on Facebook, even if I want to do a face palm when I see him sabotage an opportunity for nookie with an interested pretty woman by bringing up his exes.
Friendship at a distance easier on my heart than worrying.
I'm sorry I unfriended him but pray I did the right thing for him. I mean, if an ex's photos keep popping up in his feed, of course he's going to think about her. Horny women don't want to hear about ex-girlfriends...they want to get to know the person bringing on the reaction....sigh...
Damn...
Did I do the right thing?
We'll see...if I run into him and he's sporting a ring, I'll know I did right by him.
I'll keep praying.
hmmmm....
When the dreams happen around four, it's always the same person. His emails are generally time stamped for the time I wake up. Last night it was 4:33 and my clock is a little slow.
It seems that if he is afraid to contact me in person, his soul doesn't feel the same way.
Friendship is not such a frightful thing, especially when we have our wits about us.
There are days when I think it is easier to keep track of him on Facebook, even if I want to do a face palm when I see him sabotage an opportunity for nookie with an interested pretty woman by bringing up his exes.
Friendship at a distance easier on my heart than worrying.
I'm sorry I unfriended him but pray I did the right thing for him. I mean, if an ex's photos keep popping up in his feed, of course he's going to think about her. Horny women don't want to hear about ex-girlfriends...they want to get to know the person bringing on the reaction....sigh...
Damn...
Did I do the right thing?
We'll see...if I run into him and he's sporting a ring, I'll know I did right by him.
I'll keep praying.
hmmmm....
Friday, December 9, 2011
From Siegfred to Simon Baker
My auntie always explains my personality in terms of Television shows.
As a kid, she likened me to Siegfried from "All Creatures Great and Small". As bizarre as it was for my teenage self to be compared to an aging old man, I never asked her why he reminded her of me.
I, quite honestly, don't see the resemblance. Other people did and that is why the nickname Siegfried stuck to me like the smell on a skunk's tail.
Now, she says that she watches 'The Mentalist' because Simon Baker reminds her of me.
I could never get more than ten minutes into any TV show before getting up and doing something else. I don't know what she sees there either:
There are problems with being an empath. I always know when people lie to me. NLP helps because I can name what I sense and explain to people how I know they are lying. Sometimes it is an issue of the pitch of their voices, or the movements of their eyes, or a change in skin tone.
It still sucks not being able to fall for other people's baloney.
The day is only a few hours old.
I woke up to dreams of the man in the basement throwing pies in my face.
Yeah, my subconscious mind is saying what I refuse to hear. He is lying to me. I ran off to bed last night after having him try to sneak a kiss. All I said was "your actions do not match your words" and he said he has been meaning to put the money back in our joint bank account.
That wasn't what I meant but I guess he knows that he's been a bad boy.
I awoke this morning to the teenager crying out claiming to be in pain. Her head hurt, her stomach hurt, everything hurt. Her pitch kept getting higher and higher.
I run to the room and watch her eyes dart back and forth.
Her temperature was normal. Her skin was normal.
She was in tears.
We just went through this twice last week but, in that case, I had the flu as well. I let her stay home thinking she was fighting off my sickness. This time, she was obviously faking, I just couldn't put my finger on it.
Finally, I had enough and asked her to cut the crap.
Then I learned that she has a test in English today.
Man, there are days when I wish I could be stupid enough to fall for liars - life would be so much easier.
Maybe I should be happy that I'm me.
It would be funny if I could combine the characters of Siegfred and Simon Baker. Wouldn't it be fun to catch someone in a lie and play a horrid prank on them?
Maybe I'll buy some plastic vomit today and keep it in my room. That way, the next time the teenager fakes an illness, I can just throw it on her bed and wait or her reaction. If she's sick, she'll lose it (in a way I don't want to describe) and if she's well she'll lose it and laugh.
Scheming is fun...
Love,
S.
P.S. I do know this guy who gets a little happy to see me. In an attempt to hide the evidence, he'll cross his legs in figure four (which according to some body language experts means 'I can't believe this is happening') and grin like a banshee.
My reply is always a concerned "What?" My meaning is "what are your trying to tell me?"
For more years than I care to admit to being alive, his reply has always been "nothing."
He always says it using a sing-song voice, mimiking the tones of the average door bell as he sings "noth-iiiiiiing".
If it helps, he sounds more like the third doorbell sound on this video taken up a third and make the last note really, really sharp. It's kind of cute!
The man has his own little horny ding-a-ling in denial song.
Too bad I cannot think of a tasteful prank for him. Maybe I can bring along a sound effect app and tell him to answer the door because denial is knocking.
nah....
Hmmmm....I'm not going to worry about it. One of these days, he'll find a hot girlfriend and he'll stop singing to me.
I have faith.
Cheers!
As a kid, she likened me to Siegfried from "All Creatures Great and Small". As bizarre as it was for my teenage self to be compared to an aging old man, I never asked her why he reminded her of me.
I, quite honestly, don't see the resemblance. Other people did and that is why the nickname Siegfried stuck to me like the smell on a skunk's tail.
Now, she says that she watches 'The Mentalist' because Simon Baker reminds her of me.
I could never get more than ten minutes into any TV show before getting up and doing something else. I don't know what she sees there either:
There are problems with being an empath. I always know when people lie to me. NLP helps because I can name what I sense and explain to people how I know they are lying. Sometimes it is an issue of the pitch of their voices, or the movements of their eyes, or a change in skin tone.
It still sucks not being able to fall for other people's baloney.
The day is only a few hours old.
I woke up to dreams of the man in the basement throwing pies in my face.
Yeah, my subconscious mind is saying what I refuse to hear. He is lying to me. I ran off to bed last night after having him try to sneak a kiss. All I said was "your actions do not match your words" and he said he has been meaning to put the money back in our joint bank account.
That wasn't what I meant but I guess he knows that he's been a bad boy.
I awoke this morning to the teenager crying out claiming to be in pain. Her head hurt, her stomach hurt, everything hurt. Her pitch kept getting higher and higher.
I run to the room and watch her eyes dart back and forth.
Her temperature was normal. Her skin was normal.
She was in tears.
We just went through this twice last week but, in that case, I had the flu as well. I let her stay home thinking she was fighting off my sickness. This time, she was obviously faking, I just couldn't put my finger on it.
Finally, I had enough and asked her to cut the crap.
Then I learned that she has a test in English today.
Man, there are days when I wish I could be stupid enough to fall for liars - life would be so much easier.
Maybe I should be happy that I'm me.
It would be funny if I could combine the characters of Siegfred and Simon Baker. Wouldn't it be fun to catch someone in a lie and play a horrid prank on them?
Maybe I'll buy some plastic vomit today and keep it in my room. That way, the next time the teenager fakes an illness, I can just throw it on her bed and wait or her reaction. If she's sick, she'll lose it (in a way I don't want to describe) and if she's well she'll lose it and laugh.
Scheming is fun...
Love,
S.
P.S. I do know this guy who gets a little happy to see me. In an attempt to hide the evidence, he'll cross his legs in figure four (which according to some body language experts means 'I can't believe this is happening') and grin like a banshee.
My reply is always a concerned "What?" My meaning is "what are your trying to tell me?"
For more years than I care to admit to being alive, his reply has always been "nothing."
He always says it using a sing-song voice, mimiking the tones of the average door bell as he sings "noth-iiiiiiing".
If it helps, he sounds more like the third doorbell sound on this video taken up a third and make the last note really, really sharp. It's kind of cute!
The man has his own little horny ding-a-ling in denial song.
Too bad I cannot think of a tasteful prank for him. Maybe I can bring along a sound effect app and tell him to answer the door because denial is knocking.
nah....
Hmmmm....I'm not going to worry about it. One of these days, he'll find a hot girlfriend and he'll stop singing to me.
I have faith.
Cheers!
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Hey There Delilah
I grew up with a Native America Step-Dad.
When he was lucid, and didn't have access to whiskey, I'd hear stories of why you don't cut your hair, why you don't take photographs of other people, and why you don't screw people you don't love.
Yep...
He'd say every time you have sex with someone, they become a part of you and you end up looking like them.
I'm not cold or frigid. I'm just too vain to screw just anybody.
I don't want to look un-hot.
Of the few people I've known that well, I want to know who in the hell gave me the green eyes, the wrinkles, and the white hair?
I didn't have those when I was a virgin.
Oh, and my skin was whiter and less golden back then, too. My make-up artist claims that I am no longer "cool" but "warm" and I had to throw out all my make-up. That was expensive.
I've not been with anyone in ages...so, how in the heck did that happen? Maybe this is what I looked like before my high school sweetheart. Maybe he's the one that changed my appearance?
I like blaming men for my problems (can't you tell)?
I'm so old...I don't want to admit to what I don't remember. And, a lady doesn't remember such things from back in the day. Not to hurt any one's feelings....but to save them.
Anyway, I digress.
Oh, that's right. It's my turn to talk about the photograph thingy. Yep, daddy believed photographs stole your soul. Yeppers, he also said that to burn one was to make the people in the photo burn for you.
Daddy was a firefighter, I wonder what he thought when houses burned down?
And, back to the hair.
Our hair is our power, he said. Don't cut it. When my parents were alive, I had curly brown hair w/ red highlights down to my lower back. When they died, I cut and dyed the holy tar out of it.
I don't know about the beard thing because my dad didn't have a beard. Native Americans don't grow a lot of facial hair.
So, I don't know what they thought about it.
In my old age, I've developed a beard. I kid you not.
Yep, I have a beard. It consists of one reddish brown hair that comes out of a scar on my chin.
That's my beard. Until today, it pissed me off. It made me feel old. It makes me want to carry tweezers in my pocket and bleach the holy tar out of my face.
I feel like a man.
It's gross!!
Until today, that is. I found something that makes me feel a heck of a lot better.
Today, I read that successful men in the programming business all have beards.
Well, I'd like to improve my computer skills and I guess I'm well on my way.
And I owe it all to that one hair!
It's a symbol of my brilliance!
Yipee!!!
So, I'll keep studying computer programming, bleach the heck out of that lil' critter on my chin and see how long I can grow my beard.
Ha!!
Oh, and if you want to read the story I found, you can find it here, just add the http://www. part. I hate ending up in other people's comment section because I share their link.
alenz.org/mirror/khason/why-microsoft-can-blow-off-with-c.html
Love ya,
S
Okay, okay....the truth is that I'll still tear the shitty thing out of my skin. That gross hair won't last more than an hour after being spotted. .
But, it is a fun thought that I can have the wisdom of a computer programmer given enough facial hair.
People are bizarre....fun....but bizarre!
When he was lucid, and didn't have access to whiskey, I'd hear stories of why you don't cut your hair, why you don't take photographs of other people, and why you don't screw people you don't love.
Yep...
He'd say every time you have sex with someone, they become a part of you and you end up looking like them.
I'm not cold or frigid. I'm just too vain to screw just anybody.
I don't want to look un-hot.
Of the few people I've known that well, I want to know who in the hell gave me the green eyes, the wrinkles, and the white hair?
I didn't have those when I was a virgin.
Oh, and my skin was whiter and less golden back then, too. My make-up artist claims that I am no longer "cool" but "warm" and I had to throw out all my make-up. That was expensive.
I've not been with anyone in ages...so, how in the heck did that happen? Maybe this is what I looked like before my high school sweetheart. Maybe he's the one that changed my appearance?
I like blaming men for my problems (can't you tell)?
I'm so old...I don't want to admit to what I don't remember. And, a lady doesn't remember such things from back in the day. Not to hurt any one's feelings....but to save them.
Anyway, I digress.
Oh, that's right. It's my turn to talk about the photograph thingy. Yep, daddy believed photographs stole your soul. Yeppers, he also said that to burn one was to make the people in the photo burn for you.
Daddy was a firefighter, I wonder what he thought when houses burned down?
And, back to the hair.
Our hair is our power, he said. Don't cut it. When my parents were alive, I had curly brown hair w/ red highlights down to my lower back. When they died, I cut and dyed the holy tar out of it.
I don't know about the beard thing because my dad didn't have a beard. Native Americans don't grow a lot of facial hair.
So, I don't know what they thought about it.
In my old age, I've developed a beard. I kid you not.
Yep, I have a beard. It consists of one reddish brown hair that comes out of a scar on my chin.
That's my beard. Until today, it pissed me off. It made me feel old. It makes me want to carry tweezers in my pocket and bleach the holy tar out of my face.
I feel like a man.
It's gross!!
Until today, that is. I found something that makes me feel a heck of a lot better.
Today, I read that successful men in the programming business all have beards.
Well, I'd like to improve my computer skills and I guess I'm well on my way.
And I owe it all to that one hair!
It's a symbol of my brilliance!
Yipee!!!
So, I'll keep studying computer programming, bleach the heck out of that lil' critter on my chin and see how long I can grow my beard.
Ha!!
Oh, and if you want to read the story I found, you can find it here, just add the http://www. part. I hate ending up in other people's comment section because I share their link.
alenz.org/mirror/khason/why-microsoft-can-blow-off-with-c.html
Love ya,
S
Okay, okay....the truth is that I'll still tear the shitty thing out of my skin. That gross hair won't last more than an hour after being spotted. .
But, it is a fun thought that I can have the wisdom of a computer programmer given enough facial hair.
People are bizarre....fun....but bizarre!