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Sunday, June 4th, 2006
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3:45 am - Amen.
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I just talked to Kelsey for a few minutes. They are in the train station in London, done with London, done with the Roman runis in Bath, done with Stonehenge. They're on their way to Wales today, and then to Dublin after that.
She sounded good. Strong. Centered. Capable. Smart. Clear-headed.
I love her so much.
I'm so very proud of her.
She's a wonderful daughter.
~~
Connor is upstairs, asleep. Later today, at noon, he'll be going on his very first date. He and his best friend, Brent, invited a coupe girls to go ice skating with them. Connor has four passes to our local ice skating rink, so he's treating them all. He's bringing most of the money he has in the world--$50--to pay for EVERYTHING for all of them on this thing (hot chocolate, snacks, etc). He's been reminding me all week to get him up at a particular time, to remind him to take a shower and use the good soap (K left behind some body wash and C thinks, for some reason, that THAT is way way better then his regular soap), and to have this shirt and those pants clean for him to wear. He's reminded me about ten times today to bring my camera and we've discussed where i'll take their pictures, and when. He's definitely jacked about this!
My last baby is growing up the instant my first baby walked out the door. There's a certain kind of hard-on-me symmetry in that.
Today he and i had a very serious conversation about his desire to dye his hair blue. He wants a long forelock, basically, that's blue. We discussed the fact that his father is NOT going to be at all happy with this decision. Connor is scared of Tom and seemed very nervous talking about that part of it. I spoke softly, trying to give him some self-confidence around the fact that hair grows quickly, and it's his body, and he can listen to Tom scream without dissolving into tears, and how to tell Tom, "It's my hair and this is my decision and i want it blue for now".
In any case, we decided it would be a good thing to wait for K to come home to do it for him. She agreed on the phone just now, seemingly thrilled that he wanted her to do it. I asked her to be CERTAIN she could go to Tom's house with Connor afterwards--maybe for dinner or something--to help Connor deal with the aftermath of Tom's certain displeasure over this. She agreed.
She's a wonderful daughter.
He's a wonderful son.
I am so glad to have this time with him, just he and i.
I had this with Kelsey, years of it, but haven't had it with Connor.
He's a wonderful boy and i'm going to very much enjoy our time together.
~~
So both my babies are well and happy.
And i am, too, pretty much.
Life is good.
Life is sweet.
Amen.
current mood:  contemplative
current music: Don't Let Us Get Sick by Warren Zevon
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(comment on this)
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| Saturday, June 3rd, 2006
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8:46 am - my Ambassadorship
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On Monday my Ambassadorship is going to pay off. As R so well knows (in fact i think it was she who pointed it out a few years ago) i'm a self-appointed Ambassador for all things shiny and sharp.
So, ummmm, i've seen this artist-type man once. Last Tuesday. (But i wasn't going to touch the guy, i swear! It was JUST for coffee! And no, R, i haven't talked to you about this one. Yet. That's cuz nothing of any real consequence has occurred. And, by the way, thank you most sincerely for doing the safe call thing in-between your classes on Thursday. You're the best. As you can see, i had a most wonderful time.)
So the artist-type man--Allen. He was the second-medic-in-charge on a fishing boat in Alaska for a double handful of years. He worked extensively with leather once upon a time. He's been a successful silversmith (making ALL that kind of jewelry i love, R, except that a lot of his is way more then i can afford) for years now. So he's got an artist's eye, a medic's background, and he processes things through his hands like i/you/most of us process them through writing.
He lives over in the East Bay (~sighsighsigh~) and in the late afternoon on Tuesday, i FedEx'ed him a box containing a bunch of shiny sharp stuff. He's been practicing with it on lemons (his idea) and papayas (idea from the Top who did the suturing on me on Thursday) and himself (idea from my friend Michael who does cutting demos all over the country). That's cuz on Monday, he's going to cut on me for the first time.
He's got ALL the pieces and parts that are required to be a really good cutter, he's just never put them all together before, never worked with skin before. He's been reading like crazy on the subject for days. He's been experimenting with the various pieces of fruit. He's been practicing needle play on hot dogs--and himself.
When i was there last Tuesday, i watch him use some kinda silversmith cutting tool on a regular pack of yellow post-it's. He drew a long sinuous curved line with it. When i pulled the topmost post-it from the stack, the cut hadn't gone through the paper, not even nearly, but it was etched strongly into the front side.
Being an artist, he's got a whole bunch of artist friends. Being a Leo (hearing this D?) he's xtremely gregarious and doesn't seem to have any problem telling many of those friends what he's up to--especially since he's totally out about his sexuality to all those friends, too. THAT'S kinda refreshing. He thinks he's in really hardcore like with me already. (It has occurred to me on more than occasion in the past that men get really good sex confused with other heartstring feelings.)
So he's going to cut me on Monday--the first time he's ever cut anyone. He'd never considered cutting before i arrived on the scene. But he's seen all my cutting pics, and pored over Michael's site, and he wants to do it. He's strongly drawn to it--from a bdsm standpoint, of course, but (i think) even more from an artistic standpoint. He saw it immediately as performance art--and he wants to do it. To that end, he's got this Toppish bulldyke artist photog friend who wants to photograph the whole thing.
I'm all for it. Why not? At the very least, i might get some very high quality pics out of it, right? So that's on the calender for Monday.
~gringringrin~ Life is fun. Too bad i have to go back to work sometime soon.
current mood: bubbly
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| Saturday, May 20th, 2006
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2:35 am - Turn around and you're tiny, Turn around and you're grown...
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I used to sing this song to Kelsey a LOT. Rocking and singing. singing and rocking. For hours, sometimes. She loved this song. It made me cry**. I didn't know then how bittersweet and truthful were its words but i felt in my heart that the time i had with her would go more quickly then i might like. And here i am, all that time into the future...fuzzily sure i remember back when the time i had with her stretched out forever, almost, in front of us.
Turn Around
Where are you goin' my little one, little one?
Where are you goin' my baby my own?
Turn around and you're two
Turn around and you're four
Turn around and you're a young girl
Going out of the door
Turn around
Turn around
Turn around and you're a young girl
Going out of the door
Where are you goin' my little one, little one?
Little dirndles and petticoats, where have you gone?
Turn around and you're tiny
Turn around and you're grown
Turn around and you're a young wife
With babes of your own
Turn around
Turn around
Turn around and you're a young wife
With babes of your own
Where are you goin' my little one, little one?
Where are you goin' my baby my own?
Turn around and you're two
Turn around and you're four
Turn around and you're a young girl
Going out of my door
Where are you goin' my little one, little one?
Where are you goin' my baby my own?
** Maybe the song made me cry but a cartoon made her cry. She couldn't watch Dumbo, you know, the old Disney elephants-in-the-circus cartoon movie? The first time she saw it, she burst into almost inconsolable tears when Dumbo's mom was taken away. She refused to watch the movie ever again. She's always been a mama's girl.
current mood: way overfull
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2:05 am - Lord Protect My Child
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Today is May 20th.
My child is leaving in ten days.
My baby will have a backpack and a friend and go away from me, far away, so far that i won't be able to protect her. She'll be gone.
Call me stupid but i just got it today how FAR away she's going to be.
I just realized in my guts today how LONG she'll be gone.
She is my baby.
She is the reason i am alive.
No. I am not being melodramatic.
When i had her, i suddenly gained a reason to live, a reason to fight through the many, many many many many many many many layers of self-protective shellac i'd spent more than 10 years furiously painting and layering around myself to keep everyone -- EVERYONE -- out so no one would ever ever hurt me again.
But, then, from nowhere, there was this tiny girl child in my life, a whole new person in the world. And i (me?!?!?!? the gods really are crazy...) was her mother. Her life depended on me. And so i had to crack open for her, to see that she came to no harm, to do right by her, to try my best to be a good a mother, to care for her and see to her needs and wants. I had to open up after i was so securely closed. I had to. She was helpless but for me. Me. She was a gift from the gods to me and i had to do right by her.
So i cracked open--for her, for this miracle in my life, this non-sleepy, alert, interested-in-everything brand new person.
And then i fell breathlessly, hopelessly, completely, madly in love with my child, and my heart began to beat again for the first time in years.
And so we have lived together, she and i, for almost 18 years. We have cried together and apart--and made each other cry. We have comforted each other during hard times and given and taken advice. I have watched over her like the precious bit of DNA--the very essence of life--she has always been to me, in my life. She's mostly always told me the truth and i have mostly-always told her the same. We love each other. We're close, still, and have fashioned a remarkable and wonderful mother-daughter relationship.
Now she is going away. She's strong and fearless and intelligent--and she's 17 and facing a lot of new stuff and has never ever ever been so on her own before.
This trip is not a surprise. We've been discussing it since she was a baby, when the conversation was distinctly one-sided.
Go, i always urged her, go between high school and college. Go! See! Do! You'll have the money your grandparents have been sending you in savings bonds for every Christmas and birthday since you were born. You'll never ever again in your life be this free. For this small bit of time, you don't owe anyone in the world anything. You don't owe car payments. You don't owe student loans. You don't have a mortgage or a much-loved child. You don't owe your boyfriend/lover/husband/sig other any voice in what you do or where you go. You're free. Now--and maybe only now for the entirety of your life--are you really free. Go!
And so she's going.
And i'm scared.
And i'm grieving.
And i'm shocked at the hole her not being here will leave in my life.
And i hurt.
And i've cried.
Finally, i sniffled and realized that i will still have a child here. He's almost 10, my Connor, and has been forever overshadowed by Kelsey. I had her for eight years first, after all, and he came at around the time i was leaving Tom, and my life was in uproar. He's had a very different mom then Kelsey did. Maybe her being gone will be good for him and me. Maybe we'll have some time to get very focused on just us--Connor and Mom.
I know that when Kelsey comes home from Europe in the middle of July she'll be another person. She will have begun her adult life, the part of her journey in which i am a side player, not a central larger-than-life life-giver. When she comes home, she will have six weeks of adult experiences and new views on who she can be, by herself, without needing mommy to help her. It will be good for her. I know that. I accept that. I want that for her.
But oh gods--how it hurts. I'm tearing up now, fingers on the blurred keyboard, thinking of how much it hurts to have a child as loved as Kelsey take the first steps out the door--strong and capable and everything i as a parent want for her. But it hurts. The mother part of me is in pain.
So, for hours today, i kissed Kelsey's childhood--so incredibly meaningful to *me*--goodbye. Working with my own thousands of songs on my hard drive and the millions available to me via LimeWirePro, i fashioned a CD for her. She's got an iPod with the capability of holding 4,000 songs or something ridiculous like that and she's been studiously adding music to the thing for days and days. I'll give her my CD for her when it's done; i still have a few songs to find.
I told her about it and she seemed genuinely warmed and pleased and touched.
It's called For Kelsey, With Love Forever and Ever and Ever. (I've told both my kids since the first day i held them in my arms that i would love them forever and ever and ever and nothing could possibly change my love for them--and i mean it.)
The songs are these (so far):
California Girls...........Beach Boys
Time Of Your Life.......Green Day
Soul Child.................Shawn Mullins
Daughter..................John Mayer
Dreamland ................Mary Chapin Carpenter
Puff (The Magic Dragon).....Peter, Paul & Mary
Turn Around......................Nanci Griffith
All The Pretty Little Horses...Kenny Loggins
The Riddle Song.........Joan Baez & Pete Seeger
Hush Little Baby (Mama’s Gonna Buy You…).....Anne Murray
Swing Low Sweet Chariot.....Eric Clapton
Rock-A-By Baby........Children’s Lullaby’s
Brahms Lullaby..........Aaron Neville & Linda Ronstadt
Lord Protect My Child...........Bob Dylan
Itsy Bitsy Spider........Raffi & Barny
Down By The Bay......Raffi
Shake Your Sillies Out.........Raffi
Baby Beluga..............Raffi
Do You Know The Muffin Man?.....Raffi
There are four parts, so far.
1. My songs to her. These probably mean more to me then to her so i've tried to keep this section short.
2. The lullabies i used to sing to her, endlessly (she NEVER slept), while rocking and holding and marveling at the miracle she was in my life.
3. My prayer to the gods, past and present, to all the gods anyone anywhere ever prayed to--to protect my child.
4. Songs from her childhood, the silly child songs that used to make he laugh--the songs to which we both still know all the words.
I'm not done yet.
I have to find a few more songs--like Down In The Valley, for instance. But i'll be done with this before she leaves, this precious child of my heart. And even if she doesn't ever listen to the music i give her (though i believe she will), it will be available to her should she decide she wants a little bit of mommy when she's so far away and busy growing up in an almost viewable fashion.
And if she needs me, i'll be there--in a way. Just like always.
Meanwhile, i have this oh-so-sweet ten year old boy around. He likes to play games and to read and swim. I predict this time will be good for the bond between us, my sweet little (or not so little anymore, as he told me in the car on the way to school today) guy. I love him. Differently then i love her--but not less. Never less. Just different cuz they're different kids and they came along when i was different people.
Though i didn't know these quotations when i began this mother gig, my feelings about being a parent can be summed up, kinda, via these words:
If you bungle raising your children, I don't think whatever else you do matters very much.
-- Jackie Kennedy
--and--
Making the decision to have a child is momentous.
It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking outside your body.
-- Elizabeth Stone
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Lord Protect My Child by Bob Dylan
For his age, he's wise
He's got his mother's eyes
There's gladness in his heart
He's young and he's wild
My only prayer is, if I can't be there,
Lord, protect my child
As his youth now unfolds
He is centuries old
Just to see him at play makes me smile
No matter what happens to me
No matter what my destiny
Lord, protect my child
While the world is asleep
You can look at it and weep
Few things you find are worthwhile
And though I don't ask for much
No material things to touch
Lord, protect my child
He's young and on fire
Full of hope and desire
In a world that's been raped, raped and defiled
If I fall along the way
And can't see another day
Lord, protect my child
There'll be a time I hear tell
When all will be well
When God and man will be reconciled
But until men lose their chains
And righteousness reigns
Lord, protect my child
current mood: WAY overfull
current music: Greensleeves as sung by Marianne Faithfull
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| Friday, May 19th, 2006
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9:44 am
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Two people have already told me they'll edit my panic-driven, lengthy, meandering, "this is why i was fired" missive. In the midst of being tense and feeling like i'm going to throw up any second, i'm so very relieved. I have friends, people who care about me. I'm grateful.
On another front, i have no money.
Okay. I have money--at least $500,000--but not that i can get to to, say, go buy bananas and milk and take-out Chinese food. It's tied up in stocks and in my house. I can't *use* it easily.
I have very little ready, on-hand cash. And my housekeepers are here. I called them last night to tell them i had no money to pay them and wouldn't have it until Monday (when Tom pays me) but they smiled it off and said they'd come anyway, that lots of people have to pay them a few days later.
I was relieved but embarassed. I was glad but sad.
I've not been without ready cash in, well, shit, hell, fuck--since i was in college a zillion years ago. I've got a couple hundred dollars, and that's ALL, until the money i get from Tom comes in on Monday. I know that might sound like plenty to some people but everything is relative, isn't it?
I guess i'm still coming down off being a rich person and back into the reality of the daily real life i chose when i chose to divorce Tom.
So be it.
I need a job.
Not: I love the work i do so i want to work. <--- My reality for many years.
But: I need a job cuz i can't pay all my bills without one. And that's BEFORE the child support gets cut in half when Kelsey turns 18 in August, down from around $3200 to about $1600. I can't live on $1600/month. No way. Bottom line: i have to get a job and i have to keep that job.
On the upside, i'm STILL glad i left Tom.
I'll ALWAYS be glad i left Tom.
Wealth cannot ever ever ever ever ever ever ever buy happiness.
It DOES, however, serve to make the cage a little more comfy.
But the cage is still, always, forever, a cage--and once one realizes that, there's no way to stay and be whole, too.
One has to choose.
Well, i had to choose, anyway.
I chose to be whole (or work toward that), a decision i'll never regret.
It was the good and right and best decision, both for me and for my kids.
Still, all that money sure was nice, she says, deciding against going retail-therapy book-buying this weekend and thinking lustful thoughts--for a moment--about the half million dollars in salary, stocks, profit-sharing, comps, upgrades, and other top executive perqs that Tom makes each year.
Then she reminds herself: But i am no longer his sterile, empty, robot wife. The world again takes on color, texture, depth, and meaning, and she smiles.
current mood: anxious, tense
current music: "Proudest Monkey" -- Dave Matthews Band
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| Monday, January 23rd, 2006
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10:23 am - More surfing into ugliness.
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From today's surfing:
I was battered when I was married, and there are some things I wish people would understand.
Your neighbors hear you screaming. They do nothing. The next day they look right through you. If you scream for years they will look right through you for years. Your neighbors, friends, and family see the bruises and injuries and they do nothing they will not intercede. They send you back. They say it's your fault or that you like it or they deny that it is happening at all. Your family believes you belong with your husband.
If you scream and no one helps and no one acknowledges it and people look right through you, you begin to feel that you don't exist. If you existed and you screamed, someone would help you. If you existed and you were visibly injured, someone would help you. If you existed and you asked for help in escaping, someone would help you.
When you go to the doctor or to the hospital because you are badly injured and they won't listen or help you or they give you tranquilizers or threaten to commit you because they say you are disoriented, paranoid, fantasizing, you begin to believe that he can hurt you as much as he wants and no one will help you. When the police refuse to help you, you begin to believe that he can hurt or kill you and it will not matter because you do not exist.
You become unable to use language because it stops meaning anything. If you use regular words and say you have been hurt and by whom and you point to visible injuries and you are treated as if you made it up or as if it doesn't matter or as if it is your fault or as if you are stupid and worthless, you become afraid to try to say anything. You cannot talk to anyone because they will not help you and if you talk to them, the man who is battering you will hurt you more. Once you lose language, your isolation is absolute.
Eventually I waited to die. I wanted to die.
"What Battery Really Is" copyright © 1989 by Andrea Dworkin.
http://www.nostatusquo.com/ACLU/dworkin/WarZoneAfterword.html
~~
~~
My story:
Once upon a time my life held terrors something like those described above. Not for long--less than a year. And not so severely, either.
In 1975, when i was 18 years old, i shared the experience of having people see injuries on my body, injuries in obvious places, injuries that were done to me in violence by someone else. I cringed inside when that happened, shame and fear enveloping me, as those other people turned away so as not to see, or looked blankly through my injuries and through me, or acted as if the injuries weren't there at all.
I share the experience of going to the police for protection, in fear, sobbing, beaten, bloody, bruised, and having them tell me that i belonged with my husband, that they couldn't do anything for me. There were no laws to protect me from his temper, his fists, his rage, his despair to which i was heir.
I share the experience of shame and shame and shame as i repeatedly turned down family invitations with some flimsy excuse or another, and all because i couldn't let them see me beat up. I just couldn't. After i hung up the phone, i would sob with helpless grief in my isolation as my family went on without me, never hearing my words for the aching excuses that they were.
I self-medicated, as virtually all abused women do. I stayed stoned. All the time. Very stoned.
I tried to please. I scurried around and tried to insure that EVERYTHING in the house was done to his specifications. Since i didn't work and had no car and we lived way the hell out and down a canyon, i had nothing to do but tend to the house and the scraggy little garden i tried to work, a small spot of growth in my blighted life. So i tried hard to do everything right. But i never could.
One night, after a particularly bad beating (and most of my beatings included violently painful rapes as well), he pushed me out of a car with just a sock on. I walked and walked and finally got to a house. There i timidly asked for a blanket. They took me to the police (again) who told me (again) that there were no laws to help me because he was my husband. It was a domestic matter i was told by the police, not our business, go back to him and work things out.
Finally, i called my parents. They took me home and i began to mend, at least in body. I began to wonder what i would do. I'd been with the guy since i was 15; he was my world, my Master, my lover, my god. All my high school friends had left for college. I had no job skills. What could i do? What would i do? Where could i go?
I knew he would be back for me. I knew he would be back for me and, the gods help me, i knew i would go with him. I knew I would die, if so. Eventually, he would kill me--violently, with blood and pain and anger and shame.
The question Where could i go that would be far enough so i couldn't go back to him even if--when--i wanted to? haunted me. It dogged my nightmares and my aimless daytime meanderings around this mall or down that street. How could i get away from him so permanently that i couldn't go back at all, even when i wanted to?
It was then, in the deepest recesses of my despair and in the mounting panic of being sure i would go back to him when he came for me--because i needed him, i loved him, i was too weak to live without him--that i drifted, by total chance, into what became one of the defining decisions of my life.
Into each military recruiter's office i walked, old bruises fading to yellow, cuts and abrasions standing out from the skin around them, newer bruises still vivid, and to each crisply uniformed man who rose to his feet at my entrance in each office, i asked this question: "How soon can you take me?"
That's all. Just that one question.
They all wanted to run their whole spiel on me. They all wanted to tell me why they were the best. They all wanted to talk to me about what kinda job i was looking for in that branch of the military.
But i didn't want to have those discussions, not then. All i wanted to know was how soon they could take me. Then i would have those discussions if they insisted--but only after i got them to commit to taking me as soon as possible.
And the Army won.
About a month later, i left for the Army. I was going to basic training in Alabama, the other side of the country, and i took strength from the knowledge that even if Tony wanted me back, i could not go. I'd signed on the dotted line and Uncle Sam would protect me. All i had to do was give up my freedom for three years and i would be safe.
It was worth it, that August of 1975, the year i was 18. It was well worth it.
A couple days before i was to leave, Tony called me at my parent’s home. He begged me to see him once more, said he was leaving the country, that we'd never see each other again, that he was sorry, he was horrified at his actions, that we'd loved each other so much for so long, that he KNEW i was leaving, and please, let us just say goodbye once, properly, and then it would be at an end.
Like the stupid child i was, i believed him. I wanted that good-bye. I craved the tenderness we'd once had, even for a few moments, just one more time. And so i snuck out of my parent’s home and went off to meet him.
He beat the shit out of me. He raped me. He spit in my face and slapped me and punched me and laughed at me and told me i would never escape him. He promised me that he could, he would, find me and take me back anytime, anywhere, forever. And then he pushed me out of the car and drove off laughing.
I got on the plane and flew to Alabama, to basic training, into the impersonal grasp of the Army. As soon as i could, i divorced him. I tried to get an annulment but couldn't qualify. Ironically, the police reports i'd made trying to have something done about being beaten proved we were married. The divorce was uncontested; he never answered the summons in any way.
I reclaimed my birth name and swore i'd never change it again, for anyone, for any reason.
I did my three years in the Army, almost all of it in Europe. It was wonderful for me, there. I grew and changed and began to learn that i was worth something to myself. In August of 1978 i got out of the Army and came home to begin college, to study biology or geology or geography or something like that. History, too, as all those ancient cobbled streets i'd walked in Europe had grabbed hold of my mind and fired my imagination. Maybe i'd be a teacher...
I've never seen Tony again, nor has anyone i've (or my mother, mostly) asked.
I think he must be dead.
I hope he is.
~~
~~
California Alliance Against Domestic Violence
Legislative Successes for Battered Women
1974
First service available to battered women in California.
1975
First shelter available to battered women in California.
1976
More battered women’s shelters opened in California.
Advocates began lobbying for the first time on S.B. 91 (Presley) which would provide public funding for shelters from marriage license fees.
1977
Advocates lobbied for and passed legislation creating Temporary Restraining Orders for use on abusive husbands.
1978
Spousal rape became a crime (misdemeanor).
1982
A five-dollar increase in marriage license fees was passed.
1983
The reporting time for spousal rape was extended.
1984
Police training in domestic violence issues and written polices prescribing law enforcement responses to domestic violence calls was mandated.
1988
The disclosure of shelter location was made a misdemeanor.
1990
Expert testimony on “battered women’s syndrome” could now be presented in court.
1992
Anti-stalking laws were strengthened.
1993
Marital rape became a crime closer in severity to non-marital rape (no longer a misdemeanor).
The duration of Emergency Protective Orders was extended.
1994
Spousal rape became legally equivalent to non-spousal rape.
Commutation of sentences for homicide on the basis of “Battered Women’s Syndrome” was allowed.
1996
Rape definition was further expanded to include spousal rape.
Federal funding for law enforcement and prosecution of violent crimes against women was provided through the Violence Against Women Act.
1998
Individuals convicted of felony spousal abuse, attempted murder, and voluntary manslaughter were required to submit DNA samples to the Department of Justice.
Domestic Violence Protective Orders issued in other states, tribes, or territories became enforceable in all other states (full faith and credit).
2002
An application for a claim to the Victims of Crime Fund based on domestic violence could not be denied only because the victim had not made a police report.
Free service of protective orders for sexual assault, domestic violence and stalking.
http://www.caadv.org/docs/successes.pdf
Womanhood is a whole different thing from girlhood.
Girlhood is a gift. Womanhood is a choice.
--Tori Amos
current mood: defiant
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| Saturday, December 17th, 2005
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11:58 pm - Gee! Don't i sound like i'm a good time to hang with right now?
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barb took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test! "Intense, vital, and animated, taking a delight in ..."
Click here to read the rest of the results.
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current mood: tired, cranky, pms'ing
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(comment on this)
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| Wednesday, December 14th, 2005
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8:38 am - this christmas sucks
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My cold is worse. Connor's been spiking temps up above 105 degrees for the last day and a half. Both my kids spike temps the second they come down with something but no matter how mant times i've been through this, it's always an immediate freakout to see the digital readout on the thermom say 105.2 or whatever. Then i have to plunge my sick kid into what's called a "tepid" bath but what feels, to them, like ice water. They shiver and shake and cry and ache and hurt and i can't do anything but sob along with them. Fuck.
current mood:  sick
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| Saturday, December 3rd, 2005
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6:49 pm - I wither in despair.
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"Where does one go from a world of insanity? Somewhere on the other side of despair."
~T S Eliot
Despair, night in the grieving senses."
~Georg Trakl quotes
"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation."
~Henry David Thoreau, Walden
"It isn't what they say about you, it's what they whisper."
Errol Flynn
You fall out of your mother's womb, you crawl across open country under fire, and drop into your grave.
~Quentin Crisp
"I start to feel like I can’t maintain the facade any longer, that I may just start to show through. And I wish I knew what was wrong. Maybe something about how stupid my whole life is. I don’t know. Why does the rest of the world put up with the hypocrisy, the need to put a happy face on sorrow, the need to keep on keeping on?... I don’t know the answer, I know only that I can’t. I don't want any more vicissitudes, I don't want any more of this try, try again stuff. I just want out. I’ve had it."
-- Elizabeth Wurtzel
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| Tuesday, November 22nd, 2005
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8:44 pm - Are you left handed?
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I am:
strongly left-handed
strongly left-footed
mixed right eyedness
mixed left-earedness
Interesting.
I never thought about three of those before.
http://jackie.freeshell.org/woh/tests.htm
Crow on the Cradle
(from the soundtrack to No Nukes; peformed live by Jackson Browne with Graham Nash & David Lindley)
The sheep`s in the meadow
The cow`s in the corn
Now is the time for a child to be born
He`ll laugh at the moon
And cry for the sun
And if it`s a boy he`ll carry a gun
Sang the crow on the cradle
And if it should be that this baby`s a girl
Never you mind if her hair doesn`t curl
With rings on her fingers
And bells on her toes
And a bomber above her wherever she goes
Sang the crow on the cradle
The crow on the cradle
The black and the white
Somebody`s baby is born for a fight
The crow on the cradle
The white and the black
Somebody`s baby is not coming back
Sang the crow on the cradle
Your mother and father will sweat and they`ll slave
To build you a coffin and dig you a grave
Hush-a-bye little one, never you weep
For we`ve got a toy that can put you to sleep
Sang the crow on the cradle
Bring me my gun, and I`ll shoot that bird dead
That`s what your mother and father once said
The crow on the cradle, what can we do
Ah, this is a thing that I`ll leave up to you
Sang the crow on the cradle
Sang the crow on the cradle
current music: The Crow on the Cradle -- Jackson Browne & Graham Nash
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| Wednesday, November 9th, 2005
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3:12 am
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I bought a new bed today. It's the first time in my grown-up life i've ever bought a new bed all by myself. I sound foolish admitting such a thing. To myself i sound foolish. What's the big deal, after all, right?
I love beds. To be more specific, i love my bed. It's a place of joy and sanctuary, of tears and dreams and small caresses before sleep. It's a place of grand passion and bitter denials, of gasping pleasure and deep relaxation. It IS a big deal to me.
I spent a whole ton of money of this bed--and got 30% of the total pre-tax cost, too. I shrug it off by knowing that i spend 1/3 of my life in bed (well, a little less at the moment since i'm sleepless again, it seems, tonight. Too much deep dense dark killer chocolate bday cake?) and i want that 1/3 of my life to be comfy.
My current bed (the new one will be delivered on Saturday) is about seven years old or so. Tom and i got it when we lived in Washington. It was the lowest price, cheapest Cal King bed we could find in the one store we went to on the day we bought it. We had a huge house there, and one whole floor (there were three) was a guest suite which contained a really large bedroom. We needed a big bed to fill the space. However, we knew that the bed would be occupied only a few weeks a year at odd intervals and for just a week or so at a time. We thought the bed would last a long time under those circumstances.
During the Washington sojourn, however, i finally came to my "time to go" point and we split up. Tom got the very expensive Chatham & Wells bed we'd bought with the intention of keeping it for 30 years. I got the cheap bed.
Fast forward to now, seven years later. That cheap bed has been an actual pain in the butt for some time. There's a fucking hill in the middle of the thing. It's lumpy and pokey. I wake up all achy and grouchy.
So i bought a new bed. Another Chatham & Wells (i'm really, really sold on the brand) of perfectly acceptable quality. It'll last forever (or almost). In any case, i'll be OLD before i have to think about another bed, you know? By then i won't care.
So yay! New bed for me. Sort of a bday present to myself.
And i got a new mattress pad, bedspread, pillowcases and sheets--1000 thread count!!!!!--at overstock.com. What's the point of having a great new bed unless you get all the other goodies, too?
barb
current mood: feeling tired, finally
current music: the deep silence of 3:30AM
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(comment on this)
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| Tuesday, November 8th, 2005
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6:59 am - Happy Birthday to me!
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Today, Tuesday, November 08, 2005
This is no time to be subtle. You may even have to be rude. The fact is, you'll have to do whatever it takes to make it clear to one particularly determined individual that you are not going to play by their rules. However, they don't realise that it's a Scorpio they're dealing with.
http://www.handbag.com/horoscopes/scorpio/
SCORPIO (Oct. 24-Nov. 21). You're feeling pragmatic. When someone tries to appeal to your sensitivity, they meet with resistance. You're logical, and that's what works now. There's a chance to revive a courtship that has had its "moments."
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/linkset/2005/04/22/LI2005042201185.html?nav=left
Your Daily Horoscope
Tuesday, November 8, 2005
A strong need for nurturing is a bigger than usual element in your life now. Your emotions may get the better of you today. Try to remain calm during a difficult situation at work. Move yourself into a less hostile environment if you wish to flourish.
Romance: Good | Finance: Fair | Health: Good
Lucky Numbers: 3, 5, 18, 21, 44, 47
http://horoscopes.webscopes.com/dailyscorpio.php
current mood:  good
current music: "Small Town" by John Mellencamp
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| Sunday, August 28th, 2005
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11:22 pm - Power
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Incited by part of R's last post: "Knowledge is power." --Francis Bacon
Knowledge brings power. -- Rig Veda
In a time of turbulence and change, it is more true than ever that knowledge is power. -- John Fitzgerald Kennedy
Knowledge is power, if you know it about the right person. -- Ethel Watts Mumford
Power corrupts. Knowledge is power. Study hard. Be evil. – Andrew Stanchfield
Knowledge is only potential power. -- Napoleon Hill
Knowledge is potential, action is power. -- Anthony Robbins
Speech is power: speech is to persuade, to convert, to compel. -- Ralph Waldo Emerson
A word after a word after a word is power. -- Margaret Atwood
Language is power, life and the instrument of culture, the instrument of domination and liberation. -- Angela Carter
Determination is power. -- Charles Simmons
Character is power. -- Booker T. Washington
Beauty is power; a smile is its sword. -- John Ray
Beauty is power the same way money is power the same way a gun is power. -- Chuck Palahniuk
Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac. -- Henry Kissinger
Nationalism is power tempered by self-deception. -- George Orwell
The essence of Government is power; and power, lodged as it must be in human hands, will ever be liable to abuse. -- James Madison
Want of principle is power. Truth and honesty set a limit to our efforts, which impudence and hypocrisy easily overleap. -- William Hazlitt
All power is a compound of time and patience. -- Anonymous
Money is power. -- Dutch Proverb
Money is power, and you ought to be reasonably ambitious to have it. -- Russell Herman Conwell
Money is power, freedom, a cushion, the root of all evil, the sum of blessings. -- Carl Sandburg
Money is an epitome of human power. -- Italian Proverb
'Tis a sort of duty to be rich, that it may be in one's power to do good, riches being another word for power . -- Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
Ability involves responsibility; power, to its last particle, is duty. -- Ian McLaren
Money is power and sex is power. Therefore getting money for sex is just an exchange of power. – Samantha, Sex and the City
~~
Except our own thoughts, there is nothing absolutely in our power. -- Rene Descartes (1596-1650)
Nothing external to you has any power over you. -- Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)
Nothing external to me can have any power over me. -- Walt Whitman (1819-1892)
No one's happiness but my own is in my power to achieve or to destroy. – Ayn Rand (1905-1962)
~~
Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. -- Lord Acton Dalberg
Power corrupts, but lack of power corrupts absolutely. -- Adlai Stevenson
Power corrupts — isn't that what it's for? -- Unknown
Power corrupts. Absolute power is kind of neat. -- John Lehman
If absolute power corrupts absolutely, does absolute powerlessness make you pure? -- Harry Shearer
Power does not corrupt. Fear corrupts...perhaps the fear of a loss of power. -- John Steinbeck
Power doesn't corrupt people. People corrupt power. -- Unknown
Power does not corrupt men. Fools, however, if they get into a position of power, corrupt power. -- George Bernard Shaw
Power is always dangerous. Power attracts the worst and corrupts the best. -- Edward Abbey
Absolute faith corrupts as absolutely as absolute power. -- Eric Hoffer
The willow knows what the storm does not:
that the power to endure harm outlives the power to inflict it.
~~ Unknown
current mood:  sleepy
current music: a quiet hum from my computer's guts
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| Wednesday, August 10th, 2005
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12:18 pm - geezus.....!
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According to a November 2004 Gallup Poll, 45 percent or "almost half of the U.S. population believes that human beings did not evolve, but instead were created by God--as stated in the Bible--essentially in their current form about 10,000 years ago." The number of Americans who say they believe that has not dipped below 44 percent since Gallup began polling on the issue in 1982.
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/nationworld/chi-0508070365aug07,1,474799.story?coll=chi-newsnationworld-hed&ctrack=1&cset=true
Fucking idiots.
I am NEVER going to teach so-called 'Intelligent Design' in my science classes. NEVER. I'll quit first. I once quit a teaching job cuz they wanted me to teach physics to 8th graders and i didn't feel qualified, nor interested in the subject, and so didn't feel i'd do a very good job. I'll definitely quit if they want me to teach that which runs so contrary to my beliefs.
Of course, in my hippie school in one of the most liberal enclaves in California, that kind of horrific change will be a long time coming. So i entreat whatever gods/goddesses/divine beings might or might not be out there listening to my petty day-to-day concerns. (-;
current mood:  cranky
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| Tuesday, August 9th, 2005
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2:24 pm
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After an exhausting couple days of almost non-stop discussion--very frank, sometimes painful, often tear-filled--Harvey is back.
What a bump in the road this has been. What a bunch of really good stuff we learned about each other this time round. What a major pain-in-the-ass a relationship can be.
No.
Not the ass.
The heart.
Anyway. I learned how much i value him in my life. He learned how much he values me. We both learned we haven't been hearing each other very well, some of the not-heard was from way back in the beginning of things, some of it was way newer pains.
I'm kinda overwhelmed by rawness of the last few days. My emotional energy is way low. But i'm at peace and feel as one does when Big Important Breakthroughs been accomplished by dint of love and firm intentions on both parts to get through the bad stuff, together.
Yay us.
current mood:  peaceful
current music: some PS2 background music C's got going in the living room
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(comment on this)
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| Friday, August 5th, 2005
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5:59 pm
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I've been looking for this quote for a long time. I finally found it, again, in a book i'm rereading. Goes to show you that you really should hang onto your books cuz maybe you will reread them after all.
~~
As I have said before, religion is a crutch. It is used by people who don't know how to take responsibility for their own lives, and abused by those who have a perverse need to enforce their wills upon the weak.
--Tiger, Sword-Singer by Jennifer Roberson
current mood:  hungry
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(comment on this)
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| Monday, August 1st, 2005
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10:58 pm - Pyrex 6-Ounce Cobalt Glass Custard Cup
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Tonight i sent this email to the pyrex company. I feel kinda weird about it. Maybe i'm blind? Maybe i'm no good at net searches? Surely a company doesn't discontue something and then all traces of it are purged from knowledge somehow. I mean--i've got a set of these. I know they exist. I bought them with my daughter when she was little, telling her that she could have them, and the ot5her cobalt baking dishes i bought, too--when she was grown and ready to move into her own home. Now she's almost there...
Anyway.
~~
Hello,
I've been looking, off and on, for years for another set of Pyrex 6-Ounce Cobalt Glass Custard Cups. I own one set so i know they exist. They're readily available in clear glass but in the color cobalt, the sets of custard cups (and individual cups, for that matter) simply seem to have vanished from knowledge altogether. I'm very good with net searches but i cannot locate them. Can you help? And do you know why they seem to have disappeared so completely? Surely they could not have been available only in the one stone at which i happened upon them!
Thank you so much,
Barbara G
current mood:  tired
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| Saturday, July 30th, 2005
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11:10 am - Kahlil Gibran
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The Prophet, a small book of philosophy, has been a part of my heart and soul since far back before i can remember anything with any certainty. The words from this book have nestled into my heart and held me close in times of great woe. They've been a part of my smile at times of happiness.
While the words contained in this book of 96 pages--or so is the length of my 1970 copy, anyway, a copy i got when it was new from my mother--certainly don't speak to everyone (Note: Better skip this entry, R), they do to me, and have forever and ever. Most of this, here, now, has been engraved into my heart, into the synapses of my brain, and are words i have repeated to myself over and over and over and over at various times in my life. They're meaningful to me, these words.
~~
On Joy and Sorrow
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
On Reason and Passion
Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul.
If either your sails or our rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas.
For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction.
Therefore let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion; that it may sing;
And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may live through its own daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes.
On Pain
Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.
On Giving
You give but little when you give of your possessions.
It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.
For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you may need them tomorrow?
And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring to the overprudent dog burying bones in the trackless sand as he follows the pilgrims to the holy city?
And what is fear of need but need itself?
Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, thirst that is unquenchable?
~~~
It is well to give when asked, but it is better to give unasked, through understanding;
And to the open-handed the search for one who shall receive is joy greater than giving
And is there aught you would withhold?
All you have shall some day be given;
Therefore give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors'.
For in truth it is life that gives unto life - while you, who deem yourself a giver, are but a witness.
http://www.columbia.edu/~gm84/gibtable.html
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0394404289/qid=1122748994/sr=8-1/ref=pd_bbs_1/102-9954782-3958505?v=glance&s=books&n=507846
http://search.ebay.com/the-prophet-gibran_W0QQsojsZ1QQfromZR40
current mood: remembering bittersweet times
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9:09 am
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Mature. *snort*
Your critter companion is the Noble Wolf. You are
a very mature, down-to-earth person. You enjoy
being outdoors and are probably a good student
in school. You are a loyal friend and a great
advice giver, and you will always be around
when a friend is in need. You love reading,
both for pleasure and information, and your
idea of heaven probably consists of a cozy
armchair, a book, and a nice cup of coffee.
Sounds wonderful!
What Kind of Critter Would be your Best Companion? (Anime pics!)
brought to you by Quizilla
~~
"Brave beyond words." Geezus. Why do i do these things? It's got to have something to do with the masochist in me.
Your personality is best represented by the
traditional Japanese Katana. You are brave
beyond words and rarely (if ever) act for your
own personal gain. Your honor is very
important to you, and you strive to better
yourself and help others. You try not to let
emotions get in the way of making a sound
decision, and are usually quite successful.
What sort of Weapon best Represents your Personality? (anime pics!)
brought to you by Quizilla
~~
"Think before i act"--oh gods yes! That's me alright.
You are a Samurai.
You are full of honour and value respect. You
are not really the stereotypical hero, but you
do fight for good. Just in your own way. For
you, it is most certainly okay to kill an evil
person, if it is for justice and peace. You
also don't belive in mourning all the time and
think that once you've hit a bad stage in life
you just have to get up again. It's pointless
to concentrate on emotional pain and better to
just get on with everything. You also are a
down to earth type of person and think before
you act. Impulsive people may annoy you
somewhat.
Main weapon: Sword
Quote: "Always do the right thing.
This will gratify some people and astonish the
rest" -Mark Twain
Facial expression: Small smile
What Type of Killer Are You? [cool pictures]
brought to you by Quizilla
~~
Hmmm.
Your personality is best represented by Morning.
You are a calm person and really nice to
everyone, even if they are a bit...odd
sometimes. You are relatively happy with your
life at the moment and sometimes feel sorry for
everyone who seems to be surrounded with
problems all the time. You probably get pretty
good grades in school and know quite a few
people, even if you arent close friends with
many of them.
What Time of Day Best Represents your Personality? (anime pics!)
brought to you by Quizilla
~~
Night, now. And i just got pegged as morning in the quiz before this one. I wonder if all these quizzes are on the level?
The Goddess of Night and Regret. You are a perfect
confidante. Always understanding and
solicitous, you could be a queen and you are
exceptionally honest. You are an intelligent
beauty.
Which gorgeous goddess are you? For girls! (breath taking pics!)
brought to you by Quizilla
~~
Oh now, this is a cool quiz.
.:Mercury:.
. : : Which Astrological Planet are You? : : . [10 Gorgeous Pics!]
brought to you by Quizilla
current mood:  awake
current music: The River -- Springsteen
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(comment on this)
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| Friday, July 29th, 2005
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12:43 am - This is just rambling cuz i think better with my fingers. No response required or desired.
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I don't know what is real and what is not real. I'm not sure if my fears are real or simply, only, "just" fears. Why aren't they real if they occupy my mind and i worry and hurt over them now? Doesn't that make them real?
I know i hurt Harvey deliberately tonight, in the way that only those who are deeply intimate with each other can cause hurt, because he's been hurting me for days--and days--and days--and not deliberately either but by simple inattention, by a holding back of emotional investment, and by not caring enough to see how his depression and angst and not caring was affecting me. So i hurt him. Deliberately. I feel terrible about it, too. I feel like a very bad person. He was trying so hard…
~~
Last year around this time, after our vacation, he withdrew over my failure (i learned many months later) to respond in a way that was supportive and loving and caring to a small (it seemed to me) sadness in his life.
I never knew i hurt him so badly that he felt he had to withdraw, to leave our relationship emotionally. He never told me. He just carried on as usual. Oh, i felt something was amiss, oh yes definitely, but i couldn't put a finger on it or a name to it, and he wouldn't talk to me about it protesting all was well, and so i ignored it. Well, i tried to ignore it. What i really did, i think, was to begin to nag/bitch/ask for/crave/whine about more and more obvious time/attention/caring/love from him. (Ha ha ha. What a stupid little simpering jerk i was. Little did i know, this time last year, that Harvey didn't love me, that the months and months of vows to the contrary were simply what he hoped he'd feel, eventually, and were empty words designated as a the proper response to my impassioned declarations of love for him.)
So i nagged him for time and attention and caring and love and affection and touching and feeling, although i was in a new job and feeling terribly overwhelmed by that, as well as my burgeoning responsibilities as a single parent. (Tom was suddenly doing a LOT more travel, most of which--curiously--ended up with him staying at Becky's [his new wife who lived--still does--in Ohio] at either the beginning or end of the trip, all of which were financed by his company, by the way, but who's counting?)
Harvey responded by closing up further, although he said all the "right" things. He said one thing and his actions said another, and i was stressed out at work and home and didn't know enough to press more deeply. Maybe i didn't want to see. I don't know.
In October, he went off into the Nevada desert camping. Out there, at a very remote camping place, dirt roads in and out for miles and miles, is a hot springs of which he spoke many times. It's one of his favorite places in the world i think. In any case, while there, he found a woman with whom he could, uh, keep company. He didn't bother telling her he was in a committed relationship because, in his mind, it was over between us--he just hadn't told me yet. So he had a good time out there.
When he came home, he immediately took up with one of his old girlfriends, one he'd lived with for several years, and the one with whom he'd had a three month fling with the year before (December through February, a period that includes, of course, Christmas--the first time i told him that i loved him.)
At the end of November he went off to India.
In January, the shit hit the fan in a spectacular fashion, prompted mostly by my love for and concern about him. Oh yes, he was unmasked as a real honest-to-god scoundrel when his lying house cards (that shaky edifice he'd had me believing in for so many months) finally collapsed around us all.
~~
And now it's this year.
This time this year--like this time last year.
And he's withdrawn.
He's remote.
I'm not, apparently, responding to his current crisis’s (see that plural?) in the appropriate manner. (Whoever coined the term "appropriate" as it has become used to being used in that way should be shot, goddamnit. It doesn't mean a fucking thing and holier-than-thou psychos--pardon me, i mean, of course, psychologically-minded folks--use it like a fucking flail to beat the rest of us into saying whatever the hell the psychos want us to say.)
So i wonder: Is he headed off into "I'm already gone from this relationship but i'm not going to tell you because it's not worth the hassle i'll get if i discuss my real true deep feelings with you. I'll let you find out about it months from now and if that causes you incredible pain yet again, well, we'll work it out. We worked it out last time, didn't we?" land again?
So i wonder: Is he already seeing Joanne again?
1. He and i got together in June of 2004.
2. He had a three month thing with her in Dec 2004 through Feb 2005 (and we were long monogamous by then--or were supposed to have been).
3. He stopped seeing her again--until October 2004, and then saw her for October and November, and wrote to her while in India, AND kept on fucking her after he returned until he and i worked out that i could put the unfaithfulness behind me IF he would stop lying.
4. So it seems that he has gone running back to her every 6-8 months since we've been together.
5. It's not that he has great sex with her (she is fairly puritanical in terms of what i *know* Harvey likes, sexually) and she's definitely not a great beauty (kinda homely and plain, really) or a great cook (nope) or anything like that. It's that she doesn't want anything from Harvey at all but just his presence. She makes no demands at all on him, not for the future, not for the moment, not about anything. She's got no ego involved in whatever is/was/shall be between them, just lives each day as if it was either the first they have had or the last.
I can't do that.
I have kids, a job that matters to me, a house, an ex-husband to deal with--and i want to know the (even fuzzy) shape of the future (if there is to be one) with Harvey. I'm an active participant in our relationship, not a passive whore with my legs open whenever and wherever he wants me.
(Okay, that was mean. I take it back.)
~~
So.
What's real?
My fears?
My hopes?
The past?
His version of now?
Mine?
He wants (1) sex at least once a day, (2) me to not bitch at him about small things (like his fucking atrocious table manners, manners [and i am using the word *very* loosely with regard to Harvey] which are so off-putting that i sometimes cannot remain at the table with him while he eats. My eight year old son is watching, too. Geezus gods! I have to try to teach my son correctly while Harvey is eating like a wild animal. How the hell do i accomplish such a feat without actually pointing to Harvey and telling Connor, "Do not do what he does. His manners are deplorable."?)
Anyway, he wants sex once a day, wants me to stop bitching about small things, and...what else? Oh yeh, (3) he wants me to never criticize or speak against his ideas for dealing with difficult people or difficult situations. I must agree, and do the verbal equivalent of hugging him for such very good ideas with respect to such people and circumstances. To point out the worst possible scenario and then working back to what is most likely--and it's not often the worst case, either--is NOT Harvey's way. It IS my way. Our ways are incompatible.
I tend to explore all imaginable scenarios around the situation, including what could be the blackest alleyway down which the problem could go. In that way, i'm not surprised at the way a thing goes. Indeed, often i feel pretty damn good about the way something turns out, you know?
Harvey wants me to stroke his face and hold him close to me and tenderly tell him it will be alright, that he's making the best and wisest choice, that all will be well.
I can't do that honestly. I don't know that he's making the wisest choice. If i (a) don't understand the problem and (b) don't understand what's at risk and (c) don't know what the many-branching possibilities are in terms of problem closure then i cannot tell him that he's doing the right thing. I am aghast that he would want me to utter such a lie. How can i know he's doing the right thing? Won't he be angry with me if i say such stuff--and it turns out that he's made a very poor choice and it all blows up in his face?
And more--does he offer such manifestly untrue pap to me when i have problems and i come to him to help sort them out? Does he simply smooth my ruffled feathers and say soothing things and feel he's done his "job" as my partner? I hope to hell not. I come to him for honesty. I come to him for frank exploration of options. I come to him to see if he can see more deeply into or more broadly away from the center of the problem in which i'm mired. If he's been just mouthing words at me about my concerns for all this time, i'll be deeply, deeply, deeply disappointed. It'll feel like a major breach of trust.
~~
Around and around and back again: I don't know what is real and what is not real. I'm not sure if my fears are real or simply, only, "just" fears. Why aren't they real if they occupy my mind and i worry and hurt over them now? Doesn't that make them real?
~~
This is just rambling cuz i think better with my fingers. No response required or desired.
current mood:  depressed
current music: the silence of Friday morning, 2AM
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