I walked down the path to her apartment to pick up the little guy. Earlier as I drove to her house, I prayed. I prayed for the strength to just get through this and get on with my night. As I approached, I could hear her bubbly high-pitched laugh. The excitement in her voice, oozing over how happy she was about her pedicure she got the day before. Snorting to myself I made my presence known, by saying "hi."
She looked over at her friend and went, "ohh." Like "Oh, just fucking great." was more of what it sounded like. She tried to make me feel small, but the funny thing is I didn't. I thought, "Oh for crap's sake, just get on with it, and say your goodbye. Yahoo might be trying to get a hold of me any second now." I said "Happy Birthday" to her as I was walking away, and she gave me a very snide squinty-eyed, sort of "fuck you" thank you. She stayed very quiet as we walked away. I walked away with my head high, because it had been so long since I was immersed in that sort of environment, or even held hostage in a situation like that. I haven't been put in a corner like that in a long time, and this time I didn't give her any strength. I laughed because I saw the near empty glass of a light amber liquid, which only tells me that she's been drinking. Glassy eyed and pissed off, she was even too loaded to fake it with me. I gathered the little guy and breathed a sigh of relief and we left her place. Happy to be back in my car away from her low energy, the little guy asked me to just call him next time and he'd come out to the door.
It's just been so long since I've felt this way, that I felt like saying "Fuck you, bitch, I am not scared of you anymore." You can huff and haw all you like I can't be shaken.
It was almost a little liberating to see how much I've grown since the times of feeling scared and small and insignificant. Now, I know I am more important, and that if she ever tried to hurt me, she would be in a world of hurt. Not because of obvious repercussions, but because I am untouchable to her. She cannot hurt me anymore.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
How Could I Forget?
How could I forget, how much you really hate me....
or how much I really hate you too..
How could I forget, that I essentially have taken your place in the greater scheme of things.
How could I forget, how jealous you are of me...?
How could I forget, how pathetic your existence really is?
How could I forget, that you do still love him, and you hate to see me with him?
How could I forget, that you really do have a drinking problem, despite the lies you tell everyone?
How could I forget, the reason I spiraled off into a mess of insecurity when I met you?
How could I forget that this is how you really are deep down inside?
How could I forget, that I am your arch enemy, and that I will be an unaccepted outsider to you.
how could I forget, how much it stings to be hated, when I am ready to forgive and move on?
How could I forget, that you really are that much more spiteful, angry and hateful than I could ever be?
How could I forget, that you used to love my husband so much you promised to be with him always?
How could I forget, that you reach out to my loved ones when you're in need, and expect me to turn a blind eye to your actions?
How could I forget how above all this I am?
How could I forget how petty all this bullshit really is?
How could I forget to unwrap myself from my own life and realize that you struggle everyday, and probably every hour with yours?
How could I forget that I should forgive and forget, because you never will?
How could I forget to be a better person than the person that gets dragged down into your hole of darkness?
How could I have forgotten how to rise above all the drama and shit, and lead you by example?
How could I forget that you always put your own needs before anyone elses?
How could I forget that as a parent it's your blood right to be a part of a son's life that I wish was born to me?
How could I possibly forget any of these things?
or how much I really hate you too..
How could I forget, that I essentially have taken your place in the greater scheme of things.
How could I forget, how jealous you are of me...?
How could I forget, how pathetic your existence really is?
How could I forget, that you do still love him, and you hate to see me with him?
How could I forget, that you really do have a drinking problem, despite the lies you tell everyone?
How could I forget, the reason I spiraled off into a mess of insecurity when I met you?
How could I forget that this is how you really are deep down inside?
How could I forget, that I am your arch enemy, and that I will be an unaccepted outsider to you.
how could I forget, how much it stings to be hated, when I am ready to forgive and move on?
How could I forget, that you really are that much more spiteful, angry and hateful than I could ever be?
How could I forget, that you used to love my husband so much you promised to be with him always?
How could I forget, that you reach out to my loved ones when you're in need, and expect me to turn a blind eye to your actions?
How could I forget how above all this I am?
How could I forget how petty all this bullshit really is?
How could I forget to unwrap myself from my own life and realize that you struggle everyday, and probably every hour with yours?
How could I forget that I should forgive and forget, because you never will?
How could I forget to be a better person than the person that gets dragged down into your hole of darkness?
How could I have forgotten how to rise above all the drama and shit, and lead you by example?
How could I forget that you always put your own needs before anyone elses?
How could I forget that as a parent it's your blood right to be a part of a son's life that I wish was born to me?
How could I possibly forget any of these things?
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
100th post!! I was a RenFaire Nerd
Yes, I was. I am proud of it too. Seems like I've had quite a few stints in clubs where I try to fit in (Last year's Wildflower - which oddly had a similar ren-fairish feeling about it) and discover new parts of myself.
Today at lunch time, while devouring my salad, alone in my car, because everyone on earth was bugging me, I bit into a green olive that somehow transported me to August of 1995. Strangely enough, it was a very pivotal time in my life, where I had been out of high school for a year, I had just enrolled in junior college, and was trying to figure out what made my heart tick. I was getting to know myself outside the "High School" stigma. I learned how passionate I really was about the arts, and theater, and somehow managed to meet some very interesting people. My friend, and later boyfriend at the time, and I made our way to Novato, Ca for something like 9 consecutive weekends to go play and act and be complete nerds. We did go our own ways as I auditioned for the Guild of Santa Maria, where I was to play the role of a commissioned artist for the Medici family, and he, went to some peasant guild, wore dirty clothes and hung out with scantily clothed wenches at a make-shift well sort of area.
For weeks, my friend Shawnie (aka Isabella) and I slaved over my mom's old sewing machine, and managed to produce what felt like about 100 pounds worth of a beautiful brocade, and deep red dress. It came with a shift, undergarments that were completely period, ribbons, large puffy sleeves and a lacy sort of thing that I wore on my head. I fell in love with the costume, the dust of the faire, the funny people I met, and the not so funny and unsavory people I met as well.
Being as shy as I was, I had a much harder time interacting with patrons, and screaming about making a fool of myself in front of everyone and their mothers. But still it was so much fun. I met a slew of people that were dorks just like me. We hung out as a group for a few events, balls (aka Gaskals) and the Charles Dickens faire in SF during Christmas time, but after that we all just sort of grew up, got married, and drifted apart. From what I understand, they're all still pretty close, I was just a random person that floated in and out of their lives. It was fun, exciting, a little scary. It was an event that meant a lot to me. At the time I didn't realize the memories it would produce in later years. It's something I think of with fondness. Those memories somehow managed to find their way into my heart and onto this blog, marking yet one more pivotal moment for me, my 100th post!
(FYI, I am going to hunt down some photos if I can find them)
Today at lunch time, while devouring my salad, alone in my car, because everyone on earth was bugging me, I bit into a green olive that somehow transported me to August of 1995. Strangely enough, it was a very pivotal time in my life, where I had been out of high school for a year, I had just enrolled in junior college, and was trying to figure out what made my heart tick. I was getting to know myself outside the "High School" stigma. I learned how passionate I really was about the arts, and theater, and somehow managed to meet some very interesting people. My friend, and later boyfriend at the time, and I made our way to Novato, Ca for something like 9 consecutive weekends to go play and act and be complete nerds. We did go our own ways as I auditioned for the Guild of Santa Maria, where I was to play the role of a commissioned artist for the Medici family, and he, went to some peasant guild, wore dirty clothes and hung out with scantily clothed wenches at a make-shift well sort of area.
For weeks, my friend Shawnie (aka Isabella) and I slaved over my mom's old sewing machine, and managed to produce what felt like about 100 pounds worth of a beautiful brocade, and deep red dress. It came with a shift, undergarments that were completely period, ribbons, large puffy sleeves and a lacy sort of thing that I wore on my head. I fell in love with the costume, the dust of the faire, the funny people I met, and the not so funny and unsavory people I met as well.
Being as shy as I was, I had a much harder time interacting with patrons, and screaming about making a fool of myself in front of everyone and their mothers. But still it was so much fun. I met a slew of people that were dorks just like me. We hung out as a group for a few events, balls (aka Gaskals) and the Charles Dickens faire in SF during Christmas time, but after that we all just sort of grew up, got married, and drifted apart. From what I understand, they're all still pretty close, I was just a random person that floated in and out of their lives. It was fun, exciting, a little scary. It was an event that meant a lot to me. At the time I didn't realize the memories it would produce in later years. It's something I think of with fondness. Those memories somehow managed to find their way into my heart and onto this blog, marking yet one more pivotal moment for me, my 100th post!
(FYI, I am going to hunt down some photos if I can find them)
Friday, May 02, 2008
I still miss you...
I thought I was over it. I thought I was good. Okay, she's gone, I can get back to my life. But today hasn't quite panned out to be one of those days. Busy, yes. But in the busy chaotic storm that whirls around me, I find myself in the eye of it all. There's an eerie quietness that settles around me, and I find myself struggling once more to bring myself to look at your photo.
Yesterday I thought surely speaking to the little guy would make these emotions quiet down, but they ping-ponged around in my mind, eventually landing hard at the pit of my being. There they settled, wrestling with the thought and the fear of not seeing you again for another year. Hearing how happy he was to talk to me, made it hurt more. Only because I think his little soul misses me too. What are these bear sized feelings I am dealing with here? Is it the lack of a baby in my life? Is it me struggling with my stark circumstances? Is this just life shaking me awake, checking in with me?
I saw photos of your home covered in a delicate white dusting. It was beautiful, I could almost hear the wind in the trees and the relaxing silence around me. If only I could learn to fly, I'd sore across the sea to be near you. I'd travel until my wings froze just to spend some quiet time with you and the baby. I'd be waiting out there until you noticed me on your ledge, singing you a song. But what if I never learn to fly? What if all I ever really achieve is the creation of my vision boards with a cutout collage of what I wish my life were like? Would that make me undeserving of more? People all over the world make plans, all the time, they figure out all the details, but what happens when the plans don't come to fruition, and just gather dust on a shelf?
With a sore back, a hurting heart and the weight of the world on my shoulders, I stare at your picture perfect smile, the intense gaze in your eyes, the fierce grip of motherhood and the beautiful twinkling smile of your baby. I sigh, and I get back to work...
Yesterday I thought surely speaking to the little guy would make these emotions quiet down, but they ping-ponged around in my mind, eventually landing hard at the pit of my being. There they settled, wrestling with the thought and the fear of not seeing you again for another year. Hearing how happy he was to talk to me, made it hurt more. Only because I think his little soul misses me too. What are these bear sized feelings I am dealing with here? Is it the lack of a baby in my life? Is it me struggling with my stark circumstances? Is this just life shaking me awake, checking in with me?
I saw photos of your home covered in a delicate white dusting. It was beautiful, I could almost hear the wind in the trees and the relaxing silence around me. If only I could learn to fly, I'd sore across the sea to be near you. I'd travel until my wings froze just to spend some quiet time with you and the baby. I'd be waiting out there until you noticed me on your ledge, singing you a song. But what if I never learn to fly? What if all I ever really achieve is the creation of my vision boards with a cutout collage of what I wish my life were like? Would that make me undeserving of more? People all over the world make plans, all the time, they figure out all the details, but what happens when the plans don't come to fruition, and just gather dust on a shelf?
With a sore back, a hurting heart and the weight of the world on my shoulders, I stare at your picture perfect smile, the intense gaze in your eyes, the fierce grip of motherhood and the beautiful twinkling smile of your baby. I sigh, and I get back to work...
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