I am convinced I am not, nor will I ever be pretty. You can call me anything you want. You can compliment me until you run out of words but I will never believe I am pretty. I always assume you probably are either being overly kind, want something from me or aren’t really seeing me clearly.
It’s not that I don’t want to be pretty… I really wish I was. I think I’m an average looking woman. I will never be a beauty queen or a model or a star. I will never be the most attractive woman in the room. There is nothing special about the way I look. I put on makeup and think “well, that’s the best it’s going to be today”.
When I pass a mirror I try not to really look too hard. I only see ugly. I only hear my mothers voice saying Some of my favorite lines from my mom are:
“don’t be a Loretta lunch mouth” (don’t eat so much you big fat cow)
“god doesn’t like girls who try to be pretty” (self explanatory)
“a pig in a dress is still a pig” (underneath the dress you’re still a pig)
“if you wear “x” no one will ever love you” (self explanatory).
“don’t try to be too pretty” .. this actually meant several things in my mom’s fucked up psyche 1) everyone knows I can only fake being pretty, 2) don’t divert attention away from me and 3) my favorite - if you try to get people/men to look at you you’re a whore.
Awesome.
This is my actual process and though pattern before I go out somewhere.
1) put on dress and makeup.
2) have anxiety attack
3) put on different, less attractive dress.
4) look at hideously ugly pathetic person in mirror.
5) take off dress.
6) put on pants and hope no one looks at me.
7) put on minimal makeup so no one looks at me.
8) sit on my couch and debate staying home and faking sickness.
Optional 9) have a quick drink and put original dress back on. Beer bravery works sometimes.
Optional 10) put on p.j.'s and crawl into bed.
Just once in my life I would like to take someone's breath away. Just once.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
I’m so very tired today. I’m having a lot of pain which just adds to the stress of the changes that are already happening. It’s always the way it goes with me.
Writing it down helps me process, so here I am. … writing like a freak. Remembering shit I don’t really want to remember but HAVE to in order to be whole. I don’t think I’ll ever be normal, whatever that means. All I can do is try to do the best I can with what’s left of my little broken girl heart.
I’ve been going back to the beginnings of my memories to try to put stuff back in order. My earliest memory is of my mom pushing me down the stairs on my trike. I remember being underneath the trike on the landing, maybe 8-10 steps down (wood) and having her glare down at me with her hands on her hips and then walking away. I don’t know how long I was down there but I remember my older brother helping me carry the trike back up. I think I was between 18 months and 2yrs. We left that house when I was 2 ½ so prior to that (and I was wearing red corrective shoes - strange the things that stick). I know she pushed me down there more than once and I was terrified of stairs for a long time. They still freak me out a little.
I remember being locked in the closet for hours on end… sometimes sleeping in there. I was almost three when my mom gave me to my older brother to take care of. My younger brother had been born and she was done taking care of me. So, since I was 3, I’ve never had anyone to count on. I was never hugged or kissed or loved by my parents (I was by my Grandfather, and I think that‘s why I‘m still here). I never got to be a kid.
This is where it starts to get foggy …. There are specifics I remember (my brother trying to drown me, trying to kill my cat, running me over with his bike - repeatedly until I was unconscious, and generally beating the living crap out of me any chance he got, without censure.
One specific incident of him running me over was when I was maybe 5 or so. Walking down our gravel road and he is coming for me… I try to run but I’m not fast enough. He hits me. I’m down but he’s circling around and coming for me again, this time he runs me over and slams my head into the ground, closely followed by one of his friends driving his bike over me like a speed bump. I’m out cold. One of the neighborhood dads scooped me up and carried me inside my house, my nose and head bleeding, and sets me on the couch. My mom flirts with him and sends him home, then promptly yells at me for embarrassing her and trying to get all the attention and STOP BLEEDING ON MY SOFA. My brother was not in trouble, I was just really clumsy.
I thought this was how all families were. I never knew this was not normal until I was in college. I told some of the stories of my brother/mother and the horrified looks of my sorority sisters was completely perplexing.
I don’t think it’s so important to rehash all the crap they did to me. Right now it serves me better to feel it and let it go. Know it happened, know it can’t change but that it’s over. Deal with the blocked out stuff as it comes, feel it and let it go. I can’t help but feel sad - sometimes I wallow in my own little pile of pity - and mourn the little girl I didn’t get to be.
One day at a time. One prayer at a time.
Writing it down helps me process, so here I am. … writing like a freak. Remembering shit I don’t really want to remember but HAVE to in order to be whole. I don’t think I’ll ever be normal, whatever that means. All I can do is try to do the best I can with what’s left of my little broken girl heart.
I’ve been going back to the beginnings of my memories to try to put stuff back in order. My earliest memory is of my mom pushing me down the stairs on my trike. I remember being underneath the trike on the landing, maybe 8-10 steps down (wood) and having her glare down at me with her hands on her hips and then walking away. I don’t know how long I was down there but I remember my older brother helping me carry the trike back up. I think I was between 18 months and 2yrs. We left that house when I was 2 ½ so prior to that (and I was wearing red corrective shoes - strange the things that stick). I know she pushed me down there more than once and I was terrified of stairs for a long time. They still freak me out a little.
I remember being locked in the closet for hours on end… sometimes sleeping in there. I was almost three when my mom gave me to my older brother to take care of. My younger brother had been born and she was done taking care of me. So, since I was 3, I’ve never had anyone to count on. I was never hugged or kissed or loved by my parents (I was by my Grandfather, and I think that‘s why I‘m still here). I never got to be a kid.
This is where it starts to get foggy …. There are specifics I remember (my brother trying to drown me, trying to kill my cat, running me over with his bike - repeatedly until I was unconscious, and generally beating the living crap out of me any chance he got, without censure.
One specific incident of him running me over was when I was maybe 5 or so. Walking down our gravel road and he is coming for me… I try to run but I’m not fast enough. He hits me. I’m down but he’s circling around and coming for me again, this time he runs me over and slams my head into the ground, closely followed by one of his friends driving his bike over me like a speed bump. I’m out cold. One of the neighborhood dads scooped me up and carried me inside my house, my nose and head bleeding, and sets me on the couch. My mom flirts with him and sends him home, then promptly yells at me for embarrassing her and trying to get all the attention and STOP BLEEDING ON MY SOFA. My brother was not in trouble, I was just really clumsy.
I thought this was how all families were. I never knew this was not normal until I was in college. I told some of the stories of my brother/mother and the horrified looks of my sorority sisters was completely perplexing.
I don’t think it’s so important to rehash all the crap they did to me. Right now it serves me better to feel it and let it go. Know it happened, know it can’t change but that it’s over. Deal with the blocked out stuff as it comes, feel it and let it go. I can’t help but feel sad - sometimes I wallow in my own little pile of pity - and mourn the little girl I didn’t get to be.
One day at a time. One prayer at a time.
Monday, November 10, 2008
childhood history and the loss of the happy
I am a woman of few spoken words and many, many written ones.
And I am changing my life. Or, rather, my life is changing me.
Here's a brief history of my time (which doesn't follow an exact timeline, bear with me):
My beginnings on this planet were harsh. Unwanted, unwelcome. I was not the cherished gift that my brothers were, but a burden and a scourge on my mother. My brain does not let me remember what is too hard to see… but lately things are seeping through…
In May, I met someone that I didn’t want to meet. I knew he would change my life and I’ve been so angry at him for being a catalyst to my changes that I haven’t given him a moments peace. Poor guy. The details are less important than the fact that he defines himself as a Christian man. And then I come along, Buddhist-pagan-weirdo-arty me challenging his beliefs (not very nicely I might add). We still connected somehow. Got along well when the topic wasn’t religion.
I find myself loving him. FUCK! This is not fitting into my life plan. Turns out that he does not wish to pursue me as a wife.. I am unworthy. He tells me this after we spend the night sleeping naked together. I want to die. I was not being cherished. I thought, foolishly, that I was being loved. But no, I am the throwaway girl (and a fool).
Then 10 years of suppressed memories start leaking through…. Giving me the reasons behind my fear and anxiety relating to churches. Why I've always hated going to church with my parents, my mother especially. They just keep rolling on through my head and rather than shrinking from them, I’m feeling them… experiencing them and letting it happen.
The more I pray in church, the more I remember.
I remember the pastor hiking up my dress to put his hands in my tights. I remember him hiding me under his desk when the secretary came. I remember him forcing my face into his crotch and the awful sick old man smell and trying to choke down the vomit while I cried.
I also remember my mother catching him with his hand up my dress and calling me a whore. I was maybe 7? 8?
She blamed me. Blamed me for trying to be sexual. Said I was trying too hard to be pretty so that all the boys would look at me. Made it be my fault because I was wearing a dress. Dresses were for the pretty girls and who do you think you are trying to be one of them?.
The only constant truth of my childhood was that I was never going to be pretty, I should stop trying and everyone could see how ugly I was. I wasn‘t fooling anyone by putting on a dress! What a fraud! My mother fancied herself as some sort of a beauty because she was the ‘spring princess’ or something in college. There could only be one pretty female in my house and it wasn’t going to be me, that’s for sure. It made my mom crazy to have me get more attention than her. Even crazier if that attention was from my dad (but that is a whole different blog topic).
I was a little kid. A KID.. How profoundly mentally ill is my mother? So ill that her little girl had to carve out a space in her brain to hide her memories from herself to survive. Very, very ill.
So now I see why it is that I am nauseous if I have to go to church with them. Why I love dresses, LOVE dresses (I have 30 or 40) but have a hard time just getting out the door with one on. I have huge anxiety attacks and can’t look in the mirror. It’s easier if I’m going out with girlfriends or with men who I’ve known for a long time. Or if it’s a costume (then I can pretend I’m someone else). I feel the most vulnerable of all when I’m in a dress and that everyone can see that I’m just pretending to be pretty.
It’s much easier just to tell people I hate wearing dresses. Which isn’t really true. I hate that when I wear them I hear my mothers voice in my head saying “a pig in a dress is still a pig”. I hate that I am afraid to feel attractive. One of my beefs with the guy was that he always wanted me to wear dresses… it was a thing for him and I was constantly angry about it. My little kid brain was interpreting that as “I want you to look like a whore-pig-fraud-ugly person”.. yeah... not so fun.
I feel much more free that now I know where some of this comes from. I just have to take the memories as they come and process. The memories that I’m letting go of are being replaced by the divine. I am back at church, on my terms and in a place I love. The last two weeks have been so very hard - between dealing with these memories and having probably the most painful rejection of my life (not worthy of being pursued as a wife because I don‘t have enough Jesus) - I’ve been at the cathedral every day and I go to two services on Sunday. I just want to be there all the time and I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve never wanted to go to church, ever.. now that I know the cause of that, it‘s all I want to do. Hang out with my invisible giant.
It’s time for me to do the work. Will the “guy” believe the change and now consider me wife material? No. men don't change their minds. On the off chance that he does believe me he’ll most likely think I’m doing it to win him back. I'm not.
I will still love him but will probably have to do it from far away. I made such huge mistakes because I SOOOOO did not want to change and was an obstinate mean bitch. Tried to ask for forgiveness in my way (I felt like God told me to wash his feet, so I did) but the words just didn't come out in any kind of way that made sense. I had hoped he would understand but I don't know. It's just so frustrating when you can't get the words out OF YOUR OWN HEAD. argh. makes me cry.
Not that he is blameless in this (though he has said he was sorry and I think he meant it) far from it. It’s just all so unfortunate and sad. My heart is broken.
My cup runneth over and My tank of suffering is indeed full.
And I am changing my life. Or, rather, my life is changing me.
Here's a brief history of my time (which doesn't follow an exact timeline, bear with me):
My beginnings on this planet were harsh. Unwanted, unwelcome. I was not the cherished gift that my brothers were, but a burden and a scourge on my mother. My brain does not let me remember what is too hard to see… but lately things are seeping through…
In May, I met someone that I didn’t want to meet. I knew he would change my life and I’ve been so angry at him for being a catalyst to my changes that I haven’t given him a moments peace. Poor guy. The details are less important than the fact that he defines himself as a Christian man. And then I come along, Buddhist-pagan-weirdo-arty me challenging his beliefs (not very nicely I might add). We still connected somehow. Got along well when the topic wasn’t religion.
I find myself loving him. FUCK! This is not fitting into my life plan. Turns out that he does not wish to pursue me as a wife.. I am unworthy. He tells me this after we spend the night sleeping naked together. I want to die. I was not being cherished. I thought, foolishly, that I was being loved. But no, I am the throwaway girl (and a fool).
Then 10 years of suppressed memories start leaking through…. Giving me the reasons behind my fear and anxiety relating to churches. Why I've always hated going to church with my parents, my mother especially. They just keep rolling on through my head and rather than shrinking from them, I’m feeling them… experiencing them and letting it happen.
The more I pray in church, the more I remember.
I remember the pastor hiking up my dress to put his hands in my tights. I remember him hiding me under his desk when the secretary came. I remember him forcing my face into his crotch and the awful sick old man smell and trying to choke down the vomit while I cried.
I also remember my mother catching him with his hand up my dress and calling me a whore. I was maybe 7? 8?
She blamed me. Blamed me for trying to be sexual. Said I was trying too hard to be pretty so that all the boys would look at me. Made it be my fault because I was wearing a dress. Dresses were for the pretty girls and who do you think you are trying to be one of them?.
The only constant truth of my childhood was that I was never going to be pretty, I should stop trying and everyone could see how ugly I was. I wasn‘t fooling anyone by putting on a dress! What a fraud! My mother fancied herself as some sort of a beauty because she was the ‘spring princess’ or something in college. There could only be one pretty female in my house and it wasn’t going to be me, that’s for sure. It made my mom crazy to have me get more attention than her. Even crazier if that attention was from my dad (but that is a whole different blog topic).
I was a little kid. A KID.. How profoundly mentally ill is my mother? So ill that her little girl had to carve out a space in her brain to hide her memories from herself to survive. Very, very ill.
So now I see why it is that I am nauseous if I have to go to church with them. Why I love dresses, LOVE dresses (I have 30 or 40) but have a hard time just getting out the door with one on. I have huge anxiety attacks and can’t look in the mirror. It’s easier if I’m going out with girlfriends or with men who I’ve known for a long time. Or if it’s a costume (then I can pretend I’m someone else). I feel the most vulnerable of all when I’m in a dress and that everyone can see that I’m just pretending to be pretty.
It’s much easier just to tell people I hate wearing dresses. Which isn’t really true. I hate that when I wear them I hear my mothers voice in my head saying “a pig in a dress is still a pig”. I hate that I am afraid to feel attractive. One of my beefs with the guy was that he always wanted me to wear dresses… it was a thing for him and I was constantly angry about it. My little kid brain was interpreting that as “I want you to look like a whore-pig-fraud-ugly person”.. yeah... not so fun.
I feel much more free that now I know where some of this comes from. I just have to take the memories as they come and process. The memories that I’m letting go of are being replaced by the divine. I am back at church, on my terms and in a place I love. The last two weeks have been so very hard - between dealing with these memories and having probably the most painful rejection of my life (not worthy of being pursued as a wife because I don‘t have enough Jesus) - I’ve been at the cathedral every day and I go to two services on Sunday. I just want to be there all the time and I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve never wanted to go to church, ever.. now that I know the cause of that, it‘s all I want to do. Hang out with my invisible giant.
It’s time for me to do the work. Will the “guy” believe the change and now consider me wife material? No. men don't change their minds. On the off chance that he does believe me he’ll most likely think I’m doing it to win him back. I'm not.
I will still love him but will probably have to do it from far away. I made such huge mistakes because I SOOOOO did not want to change and was an obstinate mean bitch. Tried to ask for forgiveness in my way (I felt like God told me to wash his feet, so I did) but the words just didn't come out in any kind of way that made sense. I had hoped he would understand but I don't know. It's just so frustrating when you can't get the words out OF YOUR OWN HEAD. argh. makes me cry.
Not that he is blameless in this (though he has said he was sorry and I think he meant it) far from it. It’s just all so unfortunate and sad. My heart is broken.
My cup runneth over and My tank of suffering is indeed full.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
I love
I love someone. Oh baby. love. big freaking love.
I am terrified.
I gave up everyone for this, and it's not in my hands anymore.
I am terrified.
I gave up everyone for this, and it's not in my hands anymore.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
nudity
so last night I exceeded my two drink maximum and took off my pants at a party. This is not a new thing, it happens. It's not a big deal to me, especially if I know people and feel like it's not going to be a big drama. Naked is fun. I still had my underwear on (!) so I felt like I was pretty under control.
Two women sidled up on either side of me and bodily lifted me up and took me outside. Seriously? That's how this is going to go? wow.
So they thought I was going to embarrass myself or them or seduce their husbands or some jackassery. I don't actually know. I had three drinks in 3-4 hours. I was not drunk. I was happy, and wanted to be naked. I kind of want to be naked all the time but when it's hot out and I'm happy I really really really want to be naked.
The two ladies went home and I went on my merry mostly naked way. I think I'm going to turn it into some sort of social experiment - see who is uncomfortable, who is happy, who feels guilt... blah blah blah. Interesting to look at people look at you and look at their shoes.
Anyway, I'm 42. I can do whatever the fuck I want. I can suffer my own consequences and I'm ok with that. I have parents already that I don't listen to (thankfully). Don't police me or my underwear. thanks.
Two women sidled up on either side of me and bodily lifted me up and took me outside. Seriously? That's how this is going to go? wow.
So they thought I was going to embarrass myself or them or seduce their husbands or some jackassery. I don't actually know. I had three drinks in 3-4 hours. I was not drunk. I was happy, and wanted to be naked. I kind of want to be naked all the time but when it's hot out and I'm happy I really really really want to be naked.
The two ladies went home and I went on my merry mostly naked way. I think I'm going to turn it into some sort of social experiment - see who is uncomfortable, who is happy, who feels guilt... blah blah blah. Interesting to look at people look at you and look at their shoes.
Anyway, I'm 42. I can do whatever the fuck I want. I can suffer my own consequences and I'm ok with that. I have parents already that I don't listen to (thankfully). Don't police me or my underwear. thanks.
Monday, July 7, 2008
so, here's the thing
I'm dating three guys at once.
I feel like a dude.
It's interesting to spend the day with someone, make out and then go home and change outfits and go out with someone else.
Lather rinse repeat.
Went to a BBQ on the 4th of July with one guy. Got a little frisky. In the middle of this I realized that I had food poisoning (and RAN home). ew. Fall asleep on bathroom floor. Guy number two calls. I tell him I'm not well and so he COMES OVER to take care of me! brings me crackers, 7up and pets my head. For 4 hours.
I like them both. Bring on number 3! I'm going to visit him this weekend in LA. I feel a combination of 5th grade giddiness and ... stress....
WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING???? is this wrong? isn't this what men do all the time? why do I not feel guilty? I think I should probably feel guilty. I think I should probably not let any of them see me naked until I make a choice. oops. It would be easier if they all weren't so very, very nice and cool and sweet and lovely. and HOT. I mean SUPER HOT. each of them are great looking, edgy and sweet. they all seem to want to take care of me (which I'm completely not used to - I'm always the care giver).
I am freaking out.
wtf, o..
I feel like a dude.
It's interesting to spend the day with someone, make out and then go home and change outfits and go out with someone else.
Lather rinse repeat.
Went to a BBQ on the 4th of July with one guy. Got a little frisky. In the middle of this I realized that I had food poisoning (and RAN home). ew. Fall asleep on bathroom floor. Guy number two calls. I tell him I'm not well and so he COMES OVER to take care of me! brings me crackers, 7up and pets my head. For 4 hours.
I like them both. Bring on number 3! I'm going to visit him this weekend in LA. I feel a combination of 5th grade giddiness and ... stress....
WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING???? is this wrong? isn't this what men do all the time? why do I not feel guilty? I think I should probably feel guilty. I think I should probably not let any of them see me naked until I make a choice. oops. It would be easier if they all weren't so very, very nice and cool and sweet and lovely. and HOT. I mean SUPER HOT. each of them are great looking, edgy and sweet. they all seem to want to take care of me (which I'm completely not used to - I'm always the care giver).
I am freaking out.
wtf, o..
Thursday, June 26, 2008
why are some women so competitive?
I have/had this friend. In retrospect, I understand that she is completely fucked up. completely. Kinda gay, but fucks a lot of people out of confusion about sexuality and survived abuse blah blah blah. Refuses therapy cause it's too hard. Really? too hard? and the way you're choosing to live with all the crying and drinking and drugs is easier? you are STUPID.
Anyway.. before I realized she was fucked up completely, I just thought she was my nice lesbian friend. I like to give any woman the benefit of the doubt (I like girlfriends - really I do, but FUCK what the hell is wrong with some of them???) ok, getting off the track. sorry. She started fucking my guy friends. awkward, but whatever.
THEN she tried to fuck my boyfriend. Not so cool.
BUT NO, it gets better.
She starts fucking every guy I meet, make friends with or who hits on me. EVERY ONE. This is a lot of people. She even insinuated to one man that I would be involved in their sex act if he agreed to go home with her that night (she had already previously bedded him and took pictures just so she could show me) Thankfully, he saw the bullshit and knows I'm not a whore. She has now slept with almost every guy I know - including a guy I just went on a date with. I couldn't figure out the connection (every guy she has been with since I've known her connects back to me). Turns out he was supposed to go on a blind date with me a couple months ago, she found out and picked him up in a bar and took him home. ick.
All in all she slept with more than 15 of my guy friends in 2 months. Some repeatedly and probably more that I don't know about. Now every time I make a new friend I feel like I have to either warn the guy or not tell anyone that I met someone. Tries this with women, too - only she's less successful at bedding them. I have since learned that all this fucking is an attempt to get ME to sleep with her... she's hinted at it when she was high/drunk and I blew it off. She's been competing with me for man attention in an attempt to get me to fuck her. WTF?. What kind of fucktard logic is this? piss me off and I'll want you? Spreading herpes makes you sexy to me? Sending me pictures with come dripping out your ass makes me love you? No. you are a pathetic whore with issues. I would not touch you for all the money in the world. Not now, not ever. stop it. I am very angry and I'm not going to get over it.
To add to the ick factor - the blind date guy, who I went out with last week, wants to see me again. I'm completely and totally grossed out. I know where she's been, I've seen pictures and gotten detailed accounts (NOT by choice she sends this shit to my phone. ew.) of her conquests and I know she's not careful. AT ALL.
How do I tell him that I think he's vile by proxy? How do I tell him that I'm so disappointed with his choices of sexual partners that I never want to kiss him? What kind of guy sleeps with a woman like her anyway?? was it just easy? did you not SEE that she was not right in the head? do you not realize how badly it reflects on you? kee-rist. issues. I get angry just thinking about it.
Thank god I'm going away this weekend (I have a date with a seattle guy in LA - who I have told NO ONE about).
This is not the first woman who has done this, so I need to find out why I keep picking out fucked up women to be friends with or why I'm not seeing the fucked-up-ed-ness in the beginning. argh. I am very angry with her, angry with the men who fuck such an easy target and angry with myself for allowing this kind of garbage into my world.
Time to take out the trash.
Anyway.. before I realized she was fucked up completely, I just thought she was my nice lesbian friend. I like to give any woman the benefit of the doubt (I like girlfriends - really I do, but FUCK what the hell is wrong with some of them???) ok, getting off the track. sorry. She started fucking my guy friends. awkward, but whatever.
THEN she tried to fuck my boyfriend. Not so cool.
BUT NO, it gets better.
She starts fucking every guy I meet, make friends with or who hits on me. EVERY ONE. This is a lot of people. She even insinuated to one man that I would be involved in their sex act if he agreed to go home with her that night (she had already previously bedded him and took pictures just so she could show me) Thankfully, he saw the bullshit and knows I'm not a whore. She has now slept with almost every guy I know - including a guy I just went on a date with. I couldn't figure out the connection (every guy she has been with since I've known her connects back to me). Turns out he was supposed to go on a blind date with me a couple months ago, she found out and picked him up in a bar and took him home. ick.
All in all she slept with more than 15 of my guy friends in 2 months. Some repeatedly and probably more that I don't know about. Now every time I make a new friend I feel like I have to either warn the guy or not tell anyone that I met someone. Tries this with women, too - only she's less successful at bedding them. I have since learned that all this fucking is an attempt to get ME to sleep with her... she's hinted at it when she was high/drunk and I blew it off. She's been competing with me for man attention in an attempt to get me to fuck her. WTF?. What kind of fucktard logic is this? piss me off and I'll want you? Spreading herpes makes you sexy to me? Sending me pictures with come dripping out your ass makes me love you? No. you are a pathetic whore with issues. I would not touch you for all the money in the world. Not now, not ever. stop it. I am very angry and I'm not going to get over it.
To add to the ick factor - the blind date guy, who I went out with last week, wants to see me again. I'm completely and totally grossed out. I know where she's been, I've seen pictures and gotten detailed accounts (NOT by choice she sends this shit to my phone. ew.) of her conquests and I know she's not careful. AT ALL.
How do I tell him that I think he's vile by proxy? How do I tell him that I'm so disappointed with his choices of sexual partners that I never want to kiss him? What kind of guy sleeps with a woman like her anyway?? was it just easy? did you not SEE that she was not right in the head? do you not realize how badly it reflects on you? kee-rist. issues. I get angry just thinking about it.
Thank god I'm going away this weekend (I have a date with a seattle guy in LA - who I have told NO ONE about).
This is not the first woman who has done this, so I need to find out why I keep picking out fucked up women to be friends with or why I'm not seeing the fucked-up-ed-ness in the beginning. argh. I am very angry with her, angry with the men who fuck such an easy target and angry with myself for allowing this kind of garbage into my world.
Time to take out the trash.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
*if* no guilt; *then* no emotion; *else* sociopathy; *endif*
I had someone tell me that they don't believe in guilt and they don't allow themselves to feel it. How is it that you can choose from the broad spectrum of human emotion and deny one?
Guilt is essential to the function of the moral compass. It's the emotion that does not allow you to kick a kitten when you're mad at your wife. It is the *conscious* feeling that what you're doing is not right, will cause harm and should not be done. That you are committing a breach of conduct. It's also the *conscious* feeling of pain after you've done something that wasn't right, caused harm and shouldn't have been done.
Ex: You drove your backhoe through your neighbors lawn when you were drunk. You were caught up in the emotion of the moment. That heavy weight in your gut the next day? Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.
Guilt is what makes us seek atonement from the wronged, the slighted, the overlooked and the hurt. To be guilty is to have done wrong. To feel guilty is the awareness of having done wrong.
It is just as possible to give up feeling guilt as it is to give up anger. The Dalai Lama feels anger. So did Mother Theresa. How they channel that emotion is the difference between being a cognizant human and being empty. Disable one emotion, others won't function well. Everything is a bit off. The less you feel, the less human you are. Is that really what you wanted?
I think it's a mistake to lump actual guilt in with self reproach (which is feeling of guilt and/or culpability for offenses *either real or imagined* brought about by inadequacy). This is not true guilt. Self-reproach comes from outside/other sources. True guilt comes from within. From the soul. the heart. the mind. It does not come from your mother. Distinguishing between the two makes the diffence between a happy self-aware life and suspired mediocrity.
Guilt is the due north on the moral compass. It's the built in boundary map for the human race.
Oh, and that crap that comes from your mother/catholic church/ethic group? You can unlearn it. Try therapy.
Guilt is essential to the function of the moral compass. It's the emotion that does not allow you to kick a kitten when you're mad at your wife. It is the *conscious* feeling that what you're doing is not right, will cause harm and should not be done. That you are committing a breach of conduct. It's also the *conscious* feeling of pain after you've done something that wasn't right, caused harm and shouldn't have been done.
Ex: You drove your backhoe through your neighbors lawn when you were drunk. You were caught up in the emotion of the moment. That heavy weight in your gut the next day? Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.
Guilt is what makes us seek atonement from the wronged, the slighted, the overlooked and the hurt. To be guilty is to have done wrong. To feel guilty is the awareness of having done wrong.
It is just as possible to give up feeling guilt as it is to give up anger. The Dalai Lama feels anger. So did Mother Theresa. How they channel that emotion is the difference between being a cognizant human and being empty. Disable one emotion, others won't function well. Everything is a bit off. The less you feel, the less human you are. Is that really what you wanted?
I think it's a mistake to lump actual guilt in with self reproach (which is feeling of guilt and/or culpability for offenses *either real or imagined* brought about by inadequacy). This is not true guilt. Self-reproach comes from outside/other sources. True guilt comes from within. From the soul. the heart. the mind. It does not come from your mother. Distinguishing between the two makes the diffence between a happy self-aware life and suspired mediocrity.
Guilt is the due north on the moral compass. It's the built in boundary map for the human race.
Oh, and that crap that comes from your mother/catholic church/ethic group? You can unlearn it. Try therapy.
Friday, June 20, 2008
pissy
those who spell woman with a "y" - womyn. Do you really think that changing the vowel will fundamentally alter our current patriarchal society? seriously? it just makes you look like a bad speller.
those who yell at the minimum wage employees at blockbuster or the gas station or wherever because there are long lines. How is this helping? The 17yr old who lives with his mom and is trying to save up for a Wii does not care. Yelling makes you look like a stupid ass who does not understand the basic power structure of a corporation. AND acting like a 4 yr. old who's not getting his way is a great way to behave in front of your kids. come. on. people.
those who take it as a personal affront when I will not f*ck them. Wow, when you use that indignant and manipulative voice, it's super sexy. mmmhmmm. oh, and you bought me a cocktail which CLEARLY entitles you to my vajayjay!!... being a douchebag makes me want you! let's go baby!
anyone who goes the speed limit in the left hand lane. I DO NOT need a freeway hall monitor, thank you very much. Go faster or get the out of my way, you douchebag. As a fully formed adult, if I want to speed and take the risk of getting a ticket, I'm allowed to do that. Go away.
religious people. This does NOT mean spiritual, good or holy people. I'm talking about people who worship their church, their organized religion or the leaders of said religion/church to the detriment of society, themselves and the innocents they affect. Morality is not borne of doctrine but of soul and of God.
oh, and stupid people. No explanation necessary.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
what I love about my neighborhood...
I was walking yesterday and I see a guy riding a bike coming my direction. Nothing interesting... until he gets closer. He's riding a girls pink bike with a banana seat. I see he is wearing a white dress with large pink flowers on it. and black socks. with flip flops. and he's hairy. really hairy. but the kicker is this: instead of the regular bike helmet he's got on a WWI battle helmet (the space ship shaped ones).
He rides by the coffee shop and no one bats an eye. I hear someone yell "hi bob" and he waves back. The great thing? this is less weird than most stuff that goes on in my area.
We have a (crunchy) punk rock drum band, an african american biker gang, old school punk vespa club*, regular bikers, artists, transvestites/transsexuals, crack ho's, and tweekers. Everyone seems to get along (except for the tweekers who steal your farking hubcaps and sell them. asshats) and I think for the most part we are all pretty amused with each other. It's kind of a happy place.
Now, send a yuppie into the coffee shop??? THAT would get stares.
*crunchy punk rockers are the new school of punk. They are all vegan, have dreadlocks, live communally, wear all black, shower infrequently (if ever), piercings and tattoos are de rigeur. Their music tends to be kinda crappy and they all make out with and have sex with each other. They tend to be smelly and live with their dogs and obsess about how they are perceived ("man, we're being persecuted cause of how we live and how we look!" no, you're being asked to leave a bar because you smell and have no money and your dog just peed on the waitress.)
old school punks are smart, they shower, listen to cool music that has actual meaning and don't give two shits what anyone thinks of them.
Key difference? only one group ever announces that they're punk rock (thereby insuring that they will forever be not only NOT punk rock, but complete and total tools.)
He rides by the coffee shop and no one bats an eye. I hear someone yell "hi bob" and he waves back. The great thing? this is less weird than most stuff that goes on in my area.
We have a (crunchy) punk rock drum band, an african american biker gang, old school punk vespa club*, regular bikers, artists, transvestites/transsexuals, crack ho's, and tweekers. Everyone seems to get along (except for the tweekers who steal your farking hubcaps and sell them. asshats) and I think for the most part we are all pretty amused with each other. It's kind of a happy place.
Now, send a yuppie into the coffee shop??? THAT would get stares.
*crunchy punk rockers are the new school of punk. They are all vegan, have dreadlocks, live communally, wear all black, shower infrequently (if ever), piercings and tattoos are de rigeur. Their music tends to be kinda crappy and they all make out with and have sex with each other. They tend to be smelly and live with their dogs and obsess about how they are perceived ("man, we're being persecuted cause of how we live and how we look!" no, you're being asked to leave a bar because you smell and have no money and your dog just peed on the waitress.)
old school punks are smart, they shower, listen to cool music that has actual meaning and don't give two shits what anyone thinks of them.
Key difference? only one group ever announces that they're punk rock (thereby insuring that they will forever be not only NOT punk rock, but complete and total tools.)
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
maybe you should listen.
This is the bain of every nanny: Parents who do not listen. Especially first time parents who think they know everything because they've read every book on the planet about childhood. I've been a part of raising over 10 kids. Most of those kids I spent more time with than their parents...
I may have a general idea of what's good and bad for children. Maybe.
Case in point; my current charge has poop issues. She gets constipated and then it hurts and then she gets too scared to poop. It's not that uncommon. Diet is usually the culprit so I started giving her oatmeal with a little bit of prunes in the morning. Cured. Then it came back... the parents (ok, the mom) was spiking her oats with applesauce (notorious constipator). I mentioned that this may be what was the problem and was soundly blown off. "She likes applesauce!" was the answer.
She also likes chocolate but she doesn't get that all the time. You can't make a kid like you with food... Besides, WHO IS THE GROWN UP?
Problem continues through laxatives, copious amounts of prunes and finally - to my horror - enemas. Instead of changing her diet, they started giving her an enema every day. Then they would give her a banana. "She likes bananas!" or white rice. Ever heard of the BRAT diet? it's what you give kids when they have diarrhea... Bananas, Rice, Applesauce and Toast. All those things are supremely constipating.
I mention these facts to both parents (together and separately) but, again, what hell do I know?
Finally, at her next checkup the doctor forbid them from giving her Bananas, (white) Rice, Applesauce and Toast. SHOCKING!!! MY GOD THIS IS BRAND NEW INFORMATION!!! said the parents. Thank you, oh smart and all knowing doctor, for finally giving us the information we needed.
I just shook my head. Saying 'I told you so' means nothing. The child is the one that suffers because of your insufferable sanctimonious bullshit, not me.
makes me want to scream sometimes.
I may have a general idea of what's good and bad for children. Maybe.
Case in point; my current charge has poop issues. She gets constipated and then it hurts and then she gets too scared to poop. It's not that uncommon. Diet is usually the culprit so I started giving her oatmeal with a little bit of prunes in the morning. Cured. Then it came back... the parents (ok, the mom) was spiking her oats with applesauce (notorious constipator). I mentioned that this may be what was the problem and was soundly blown off. "She likes applesauce!" was the answer.
She also likes chocolate but she doesn't get that all the time. You can't make a kid like you with food... Besides, WHO IS THE GROWN UP?
Problem continues through laxatives, copious amounts of prunes and finally - to my horror - enemas. Instead of changing her diet, they started giving her an enema every day. Then they would give her a banana. "She likes bananas!" or white rice. Ever heard of the BRAT diet? it's what you give kids when they have diarrhea... Bananas, Rice, Applesauce and Toast. All those things are supremely constipating.
I mention these facts to both parents (together and separately) but, again, what hell do I know?
Finally, at her next checkup the doctor forbid them from giving her Bananas, (white) Rice, Applesauce and Toast. SHOCKING!!! MY GOD THIS IS BRAND NEW INFORMATION!!! said the parents. Thank you, oh smart and all knowing doctor, for finally giving us the information we needed.
I just shook my head. Saying 'I told you so' means nothing. The child is the one that suffers because of your insufferable sanctimonious bullshit, not me.
makes me want to scream sometimes.
Monday, June 9, 2008
when it rains
it pours.
I'm not sure how this works, but as soon as you take yourself 'off the market' and decide dating is for fucktards, everyone wants you.
I saw two guys when I was in LA [see previous post]. Wanted to have sex with one of them (but due to circumstances beyond either of our control, didn't happen)(and he makes me feel like a 12 year old girl and I love that... it's so rare that someone can make me feel weak in the knees)(and he's beautiful and lovely... swoon), and the other wanted to have sex with me (had an affair with him a long time ago cause he's pretty... but young.. did I say he was pretty?). I had no sex.
One of my neighbors keeps trying to make out with me, and not the neighbor who is the asshat (my ex boyfriend, the drunken douchenozzle). He was successful a couple weeks ago because he loaded me up with vodka, but I made him go home.
Now a guy who lives down the street is pitching some serious woo... I have a sinus infection and my head farking hurts.. so, naturally, I was complaining (because according to my Grandma, the more you complain the longer god lets you live) and he made me soup! SOUP!
Then there is this other guy.. Lives nearby and is possibly the largest man I've ever seen. At least 6'5" and 300lbs of solid muscle. Apparently he worked as a bodyguard for a long time. Bald. Tattoos. Brings much quiveration to the ladies. Anyway, since I bake for everyone I know* I added him to the list and dropped off brownies (keep in mind I dropped off brownies to 4 people I know, in 3 separate houses all within 25 feet of his house). He now thinks I'm hitting on him and gets all aloof and weird. I ignore him for a month because now I think he's a turd. He finally figures out I could give a crap about his quiveration and was just being nice, doesn't like being ignored.... and now he thinks I'm hot. what. ev. er. I already got your number buddy. Sell the freaky somewhere else.
Last but definitely not least is someone who makes me feel all wiggly inside. Exactly two people this year have made me feel wiggly... he's one. Musician (bass player) and very successful in the music biz. People know his name - I didn't know he was famous until about 2 months ago (when some chick asked for an autograph and I started laughing... I thought it was a joke.. oops) but whatever. I don't care about that stuff. He makes me feel wiggly and I love that... then yesterday he tells me that he thinks I'm 'yummy' and that he would like to do things to my ass that are illegal in several countries. Small problem... he has a long term girlfriend so I'm withholding the swoon. for now.
so much wanting and so little action.
*I am a baking succubus. I bake because I love to. BUT if I ate all that I baked, I would be 900 pounds. So I taste it, then give it away. Baked goods are how I tell people "I like you, you are my friend". It does not mean I want to fuck you. Clearly that would require Beef Bourguinonne or something similar to get that message across. Just sayin'.
I'm not sure how this works, but as soon as you take yourself 'off the market' and decide dating is for fucktards, everyone wants you.
I saw two guys when I was in LA [see previous post]. Wanted to have sex with one of them (but due to circumstances beyond either of our control, didn't happen)(and he makes me feel like a 12 year old girl and I love that... it's so rare that someone can make me feel weak in the knees)(and he's beautiful and lovely... swoon), and the other wanted to have sex with me (had an affair with him a long time ago cause he's pretty... but young.. did I say he was pretty?). I had no sex.
One of my neighbors keeps trying to make out with me, and not the neighbor who is the asshat (my ex boyfriend, the drunken douchenozzle). He was successful a couple weeks ago because he loaded me up with vodka, but I made him go home.
Now a guy who lives down the street is pitching some serious woo... I have a sinus infection and my head farking hurts.. so, naturally, I was complaining (because according to my Grandma, the more you complain the longer god lets you live) and he made me soup! SOUP!
Then there is this other guy.. Lives nearby and is possibly the largest man I've ever seen. At least 6'5" and 300lbs of solid muscle. Apparently he worked as a bodyguard for a long time. Bald. Tattoos. Brings much quiveration to the ladies. Anyway, since I bake for everyone I know* I added him to the list and dropped off brownies (keep in mind I dropped off brownies to 4 people I know, in 3 separate houses all within 25 feet of his house). He now thinks I'm hitting on him and gets all aloof and weird. I ignore him for a month because now I think he's a turd. He finally figures out I could give a crap about his quiveration and was just being nice, doesn't like being ignored.... and now he thinks I'm hot. what. ev. er. I already got your number buddy. Sell the freaky somewhere else.
Last but definitely not least is someone who makes me feel all wiggly inside. Exactly two people this year have made me feel wiggly... he's one. Musician (bass player) and very successful in the music biz. People know his name - I didn't know he was famous until about 2 months ago (when some chick asked for an autograph and I started laughing... I thought it was a joke.. oops) but whatever. I don't care about that stuff. He makes me feel wiggly and I love that... then yesterday he tells me that he thinks I'm 'yummy' and that he would like to do things to my ass that are illegal in several countries. Small problem... he has a long term girlfriend so I'm withholding the swoon. for now.
*I am a baking succubus. I bake because I love to. BUT if I ate all that I baked, I would be 900 pounds. So I taste it, then give it away. Baked goods are how I tell people "I like you, you are my friend". It does not mean I want to fuck you. Clearly that would require Beef Bourguinonne or something similar to get that message across. Just sayin'.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
childhood is not a competition...
I love my job. I really do. Right now I'm helping to raise a little girl from Taiwan who was adopted at 5 months. She's very developmentally delayed (at 16 months she's not walking or talking - probably 3-6 months delayed) because she wasn't held when she was in the hospital and she was a preemie. I've learned that she wasn't even in an orphanage, but a hospital. Fed on schedule, kept healthy for the most part but not held.
When you think about how much an infant is held (16-20 hours a day) what happens when they aren't touched?
They don't develop.
The stimulus of touch is one of the main things that makes their brains grow and teaches them how to attach and bond. Without touch their little bodies don't grow as quickly (which is why they tend to be smaller) so she's a peanut. Barely 20 pounds, way down on all the size percentiles and she acts like she's less than a year old. She is growing and learning at a rate that is perfect for her... just not for her parents.
It's hard to watch the constant comparison to other kids, the expectation that they're going to wake up one morning and have a normal child. Here's the worst part; They tell her she's lazy because she's slower than other kids. She is a beautiful and timid little soul and I don't understand why can't they just enjoy her in the moment. It's heartbreaking.
"An orphan from Taiwan is the perfect accessory for our lives! wait... this is not the accessory we ordered!"
The good news is that she's learning attachment and bonding and has bonded to me. Finally. It was a lot of work but she's finally figured it out - it just took a little patience is all. What will happen when I leave? I hope that the attachment she's learned will transfer and that it won't set her back. I don't know.
Oh.... the guilt!
Unfortunately (or fortunately) I'm learning that I can't save everyone and as much as I want to, I can't save every child.
This is the root of why I feel like I've been living the mediocre version of my life… or the half lived version of it. Doing for others what I should be doing for myself. Rescuing.
From now on I'll save me.
When you think about how much an infant is held (16-20 hours a day) what happens when they aren't touched?
They don't develop.
The stimulus of touch is one of the main things that makes their brains grow and teaches them how to attach and bond. Without touch their little bodies don't grow as quickly (which is why they tend to be smaller) so she's a peanut. Barely 20 pounds, way down on all the size percentiles and she acts like she's less than a year old. She is growing and learning at a rate that is perfect for her... just not for her parents.
It's hard to watch the constant comparison to other kids, the expectation that they're going to wake up one morning and have a normal child. Here's the worst part; They tell her she's lazy because she's slower than other kids. She is a beautiful and timid little soul and I don't understand why can't they just enjoy her in the moment. It's heartbreaking.
"An orphan from Taiwan is the perfect accessory for our lives! wait... this is not the accessory we ordered!"
The good news is that she's learning attachment and bonding and has bonded to me. Finally. It was a lot of work but she's finally figured it out - it just took a little patience is all. What will happen when I leave? I hope that the attachment she's learned will transfer and that it won't set her back. I don't know.
Oh.... the guilt!
Unfortunately (or fortunately) I'm learning that I can't save everyone and as much as I want to, I can't save every child.
This is the root of why I feel like I've been living the mediocre version of my life… or the half lived version of it. Doing for others what I should be doing for myself. Rescuing.
From now on I'll save me.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
back to the grind
I just got back from LA. Now I'm cold and cranky. Cold because it's 50 and raining here and cranky because more stuff happened that what I was ready for.
I was supposed to see someone... planned for a lot of sex. yay! totally didn't happen. I ended up seeing a different ex boyfriend (waaaayyyy too young for me, by 10 years, but so pretty. so. very. pretty.) and having dinner with him. We had a great time and he clearly wanted me to come home with him, but I couldn't. I've never been the girl who fucks around and I'm not planning on changing that anytime soon - there has to be something else, some deeper connection. Not that I'm against the one night stand, they have their place, it's just not worth it to me to have meaningless sex. Probably didn't help that I made out with one of my friends just before I left. Vodka + attractive smart friend = doofusness.
The reason I went on this little sojourn was to interview with a couple nanny agencies. If I'm ever going to retire, now is the time to go after better money and move up to the big leagues. This is a strange headspace for me - I have families trying to throw money at me and also bidding against each other. I had a career in finance/retirement planning for almost 15 years and that never happened. This is what happens when you figure out what you're supposed to be doing with your life, apparently. I was good at what I did before - but this job? This I'm really, really good at and I love it. Hanging out with babies and kids is about the best gig in the world (also way harder than anything I've ever done before).
Lots of job prospects: yay. No sex: boo. Kissing two boys in 4 days: yay. Not kissing the one that makes my loins quiver: boo.
I was supposed to see someone... planned for a lot of sex. yay! totally didn't happen. I ended up seeing a different ex boyfriend (waaaayyyy too young for me, by 10 years, but so pretty. so. very. pretty.) and having dinner with him. We had a great time and he clearly wanted me to come home with him, but I couldn't. I've never been the girl who fucks around and I'm not planning on changing that anytime soon - there has to be something else, some deeper connection. Not that I'm against the one night stand, they have their place, it's just not worth it to me to have meaningless sex. Probably didn't help that I made out with one of my friends just before I left. Vodka + attractive smart friend = doofusness.
The reason I went on this little sojourn was to interview with a couple nanny agencies. If I'm ever going to retire, now is the time to go after better money and move up to the big leagues. This is a strange headspace for me - I have families trying to throw money at me and also bidding against each other. I had a career in finance/retirement planning for almost 15 years and that never happened. This is what happens when you figure out what you're supposed to be doing with your life, apparently. I was good at what I did before - but this job? This I'm really, really good at and I love it. Hanging out with babies and kids is about the best gig in the world (also way harder than anything I've ever done before).
Lots of job prospects: yay. No sex: boo. Kissing two boys in 4 days: yay. Not kissing the one that makes my loins quiver: boo.
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