Take Your Misery Somewhere Else

I've known and still know people who seem to live in misery.  Everything is horrible.  They constantly bitch. Nothing good ever happens.  There are no laughs.  It's just a long life of nothing but drudgery.  Why live that way?  Granted I have my moments, but in general I have a lot of joy.

Take my in laws for example, mother in law and sister in law.  Two peas in a pod they are.  They live in misery, and by that I mean that they truly seem to hate their lives, everyone around them, and everything they do.  Mother in law is the worst.  She is never happy.  She constantly, and I do mean constantly, bitches at father in law.  If he said the sky was blue, she would argue with him that it's green just to argue.  Does that sound like I'm exaggerating the issue?  Because I'm not.  She hates him.  And her misery at never having left, never having changed her life, never doing a damn thing about it, filters over onto everyone.  She is mean and hateful, as I've written about here.  And the funny thing is, I always noticed it.  I've known this family since 1987 and I noticed it immediately, but no one else did.  Or they were immune to it.  When I asked the man what was up with his parents way back in those early days, he didn't know what I was talking about.  It never dawned on him that it was a little odd that his parents had separate bedrooms.   Now I know people have separate bedrooms for a variety of reasons, not the least of which are snoring problems, but this was not for any other reason than their relationship was over.  And it's been over.  And yet they stay together I guess because neither knows what else to do.  It's sad.  An existence that is merely that, an existence.  No laughs, no love, no sex, no conversations that aren't arguments.  Who would want to live like that?

Which brings me to sister in law.  She who had a front row seat to this behavior and has adopted it for herself. She barks at her husband every chance she gets, which is whenever they speak.  Very often I've wondered why things like that aren't kept private.  I mean if you want to bitch out your husband, does it have to be at a family function?  Can we not have our 5 fucking 30 cake in peace without all this drama because he doesn't hold the fucking fork the way you do?

Like I said, I've had my moments.  But I could write a blog like the one previous to this one, which was introspective, kind of sad and depressing, and then the minute I hit post something could happen that will make me laugh, a real laugh.  Not a polite one.  It could be something someone says, something I read, or most likely something stupid that I do myself.  And most of that sour mood will vanish.  It won't make the issue go away, but it will lift the mood.  And then I'm back.  I'm back to being the same 45 year old purple haired, tattooed horn dog who can't seem to get enough sex, enough laughs, enough music, enough love, and enough of life to suit me.  I don't ever want to be one of these miserable people.  I want to experience everything.  I want to cook the greatest meal.   I want to fuck my brains out.  I want to see the best live music.  I want to have a lifetime of joy and laughter.  And no one will stop me from having it.

Wonder

Over the past couple of weeks I haven't had much to say. It's a first I assure you.  I know I'm not done telling you my goofy stories.  I know there are things going on my life I'd like to write about.  So why can't I just sit down and do it?  I don't know.  Have I completely lost my mojo?  My ability to express myself?  My humor?  My bawdiness?  Nah.  I'm just in a rut because nothing really good has happened lately.  The man is still out of work. Six months now.  My business is slow, very slow.  Things kind of blow right now and I'm tired.  Really really tired. A lot.

But I have a fantasy world that I escape to.  Where money isn't a concern, it's just there when needed.   In fact, in my fantasy world I never think of money at all.  I can spend it if needed or not.  I can shop or not.  I can go out to eat or cook for myself.  It's a happy place, my fantasy world, where I'm thin and happy.  When I'm there I think about sex.  A lot of sex, which I guess makes it a lot like my real world in that way.  But my fantasy world takes me to a place where all I have to think about is happiness and pleasure and none of the day to day drudgery that I seem to be facing lately.  It sounds like a pretty great place to go.  And he's there. The one I dream about.  The one who dreams about me. And we're living, loving and fucking.  It's an amazing dream that gives me moments of happiness hope when so often lately I feel hopeless.

I don't know where the fantasy world is but it's not Akron, Ohio.   In my dream of dreams, I don't dream of living here.  It's not that I dislike it, it's that it's not a place I feel I belong.  At times I think I'm destined for greatness.  And whether or not that sounds egotistical, is not a concern to me.  Greatness doesn't come from Akron, unless you're Chrissie Hynde or Lebron James.  Do I have a destiny really?  Or do I have delusions of grandeur.  At 45 years old, is this my mid-life crisis?  A crisis where I'm just sick of my life and want to leave it all behind and start over?  Can't I just be like a guy and buy a fucking motorcycle and be done with it? Why the introspection? Why the feelings of utter failure? Where do I go from here?

I have no doubt that I am loved by the people in my life. And yet, there's always something missing.  Something that is just out of my reach.  Something I want to achieve.  Somewhere I want to be.  And it aches deep inside that I cannot get to it.  I don't know where to go to find it.  I don't know how to make it happen.  And I feel helpless and weak.   I feel failure.  I feel like I'll never know what it is and wonder.  Wonder what it could be that I'm missing.  Will I always wonder?

My 7 Links - Be Afraid!

Thank you to Janine at Reflections From a Redhead, for nominating me for the #My7Links project.  Like her, I guess I was living under a rock because I never heard of this but I'm here and ready to give it a go.  Why the hell not.  My blog is one year old today and instead of having a party, I will look back at all the dirt I've spilled, stories I've told, insanity I've experienced, and all the stuff I've blabbed about in my goofy life.

Most Beautiful Post:  Interesting.  I don't often write of beauty.  I write what moves me, what compels me.  I may start out with a clear idea in mind of something I want to write about but then when I sit down to write it, it ends up going in a completely different direction.  When that kept happening I decided that it's better for me to just sit down and see where my fingers go on the keyboard.  But this one, Sold, holds a lot of importance to me.  It's full of memories of growing up and being in my Grandmother's house.  I love this post and I think it conveys the beauty and the love I had for one of the most important women in my life.

Most Popular Post of All Time:  This was easy, and in truth I think that this post fits into almost every category I'll be covering today.  You Are Beautiful is about my niece and the troubles she's experienced throughout her days in school from grades 1-8.  Fittingly, today is her first day of high school and I hope it's a new beginning for her.  This post struck a cord with many and got me the most hits out of any post I had ever written.  It made me cry when I wrote it and makes me cry every time I read it.

Most Controversial Post:  This was also an easy one to pick.  It was chosen for a very good reason since it could very easily offend a lot of people.  So fair warning if you do click the link for Turning a Corner.  It's about words, certain words that we give power to offend and overcoming that. It will probably still offend but I guess it wouldn't be considered controversial if it didn't offend at least someone.  At certain times I've thought about removing it, then I read it again and the truth is, I really like it.  So it stays.  A friend of mine told me once that it's my blog and I should say whatever I want.  And she's right.  And well, I sure as hell have said whatever I want!

Most Helpful Post:  Now we're getting into a spot where I'm not really sure what post of mine could be considered helpful.  But then it hit me like a ton of bricks, Screw Guilt should be considered helpful.  It helped me look past the circumstances going on in my life and towards something else.  It helped me to realize that I can't always be everything to everyone and that sometimes you just have to do the things that make you happy.  In the big scheme when I'm old and in adult diapers, mind wandering aimlessly from butterflies to pudding cups, the thought, "dammit, I should have paid more than the minimum monthly requirement on that bill back in 2011" probably won't cross my mind.  So fucking screw guilt!  Live.

A Post Whose Success Surprises Me:  I think the part that surprises me most is how many women, like myself, don't know their bra size.  And hell, after a trilogy of posts on the subject, starting with Embracing the Third D, I still don't know if mine is accurate!  But I persevered through it and lived to tell Embracing the Third D Part II and Embracing the Third D Epilogue.  I guess that's technically three posts, which will make this my 9 links, but once a rebel always a rebel.

A Post I Feel Didn't Get the Attention it Deserves:  All of them!   Eh, OK.  Not really.  But Realizing My Worth is one that I guess for me embodies a lot of emotion for me and might have actually been the first time I really opened up about myself and my life on the blog.  It was written only a week or so after I started the blog but it showed me what I can achieve with it, how I can express myself and how this blog could really be the outlet that I've been looking for, for so long.

The Post I'm Most Proud Of:  This was an exercise in #PBAU, the bloggers group I am privileged to be a part of just a few weeks ago.  Seven and Seven was a very difficult blog to write but it is one that I am the most proud of.  Proud of it in many ways.  The fact that I was able to write it at all.  This was the first time I ever wrote it down.   I'm proud that I was able to share it.  And I'm very proud that I never let it rule me, confine me, or define me.

Damn, that was tough, but interesting and kind of fun too.  Thanks again for nominating me Janine.  I feel truly honored.  And now it's my turn to bestow the honor on a few other unsuspecting fools =)

I chose Aaron at Aaron Outward

Eric at I've Become My Parents

And Joy at Catharsis

Good luck!

Answer the Phone Neil

23 years had gone by.  23 years since I had seen TM.  It's hard to believe really.  How could I be old enough to have known someone long enough to have not seen them in 23 years?  Getting old fucking blows.  Anyway, TM was a really good friend who I'd had a falling out with.  It doesn't matter why.  We were young and stupid and it's in the past.  But all those years had gone by and I never forgot him.  I still told TM and (his friend) JJ stories.  I never stopped laughing at the antics of the crazy punk rock kids that we were.  I never really stopped missing him.

We met at a church carnival.  Seriously.  It was probably the summer of 1985.  Everyone went to that carnival for whatever reason.  Thinking about it now, I can't really fathom why although I do remember winning an Adam Ant baseball hat and then walking around and filling said hat up with all the disgustingly fried deliciousness that is carnival food. It was there that my BFF and I met TM and JJ.  It was the beginning of a wild ride and I'm not talking about the Tilt-o-Whirl.  I remember thinking then that they were so much younger than BFF and I.  But the reality is, they weren't.  They were in fact only 2 years younger than us.  We went to the same high school but we didn't know each other from there.  In 1985, BFF and I were out for a year and TM and JJ were just about to enter their senior year.  We all hit it off immediately and started hanging out together a lot.  We went to concerts, movies... many of which we got kicked out of because were such damn nuisances and always causing trouble.  We had TV parties and watched rented movies like Repo Man and Rude Boy and Suburbia and watched The Young Ones over and over and over.  And damn did we have fun.  SO much fun.

JJ was a big goofy oaf who annoyed the shit out of all of us, all the time.  Which is not to say he wasn't our friend, he was just an annoying friend.  It was different with TM.  Like me and BFF, he had a rather strained relationship with his parents, his father in particular and spent most of his time living with this grandparents.  It was a bond the three of us had, but I'm not really sure how aware we were of that back then.  JJ was more concerned with himself than he was with cultivating a bond of friendship.  But with TM I felt all at the same time like a mother, a friend, a big sister, a confidant.  We probably rarely spoke of seriously issues, family related or otherwise, but with some people you just have a bond.  And I like to think I was there for him when he needed it most and I know whether he knew it or not, he was there for me.  So when we parted ways, it hurt.   A lot.

In all those years, even though neither of us left the area, we never ran into each other.  Not once.  I still can't grasp that.  We were in the same scene, hung out at the same places and not once did we run into each other.  So weird.  It took this crazy thing called Facebook to get us back in touch after all those years.  I had been trying to find him off and on before we found each other on FB, but it always ended up in a dead end.  I worried that he may not want to be back in touch with me even if I did find him.  You really just never know.  So much time had passed.  Would there still be animosity?  Would he even remember me?  FB to the rescue.  Friend requests were sent and accepted and we fell right back into that easy friendship we always had.  It was amazing.  Our falling out came up briefly and was forgotten.  It didn't matter anymore.  We have both been through times, good and bad.  We've grown and matured (somewhat, kind of).

And then it happened.  We made plans to see each other.  I was nervous and self conscious, of course, about all the weight I had put on since he had last seen me.  I'm a girl, what can I say!  We worry about that shit.  But most of all I was excited.  So excited to see TM after all this time.  He arrived at my house and he looked as adorable as he did 23 years ago.  And all that time vanished.  It was gone.  We talked for hours, caught up on each others lives and what we had been doing all those years.  And memories... oh yes the memories came flooding back of the crazy times and the crazy things we did.  Lots of crazy things.  From driving down a winding dark parkway without my headlights on to see if I could do it without crashing (I could), to getting kicked out of movies, concerts, malls, restaurants, you name it!   We probably got kicked out of every kind of venue possible.  Sometimes there was a valid reason, other times there wasn't.  Back in those days, if you looked a little bit different (and we looked a lot bit different) life wasn't too easy for you.  We didn't care though.  We were who we were and liked it that way.  And we're still who we are.  That was the amazing thing.  We were different but the same.  

People come and go in our lives, for good reasons and sometimes not so good reasons.  It's just the way things are.  There are people you want to remain in your life and you do everything to keep them there.  And there are people you lose along the way.  Some you forgot, some you want to forget and some you can't forget.  TM was one of those I could never forget. One that I thought about from time to time, wondered about, wished things could have been different and hoped to see again.  I was about to say that we wasted too much time.  But we didn't.  It wasn't time wasted.  It was just time that went on and now, we're here.  Again.  I think this is the re-beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Me? Guest Blogger?

Who would want my insights?  As it turns out, several people.  And this week was my first guest blog and I have a few more coming up in the coming weeks.  You can find my first one, which is an intro to this blog and a song with great meaning to me over at Life Thru Lucy Lastica's Lens.  Be sure to check it out and then check out the rest of Lucy's amazing blog.

Apartment 2

Back in '88 and after a rather unfortunately first apartment experience, I moved into my second apartment.  This time my roommate was male.  Thirsty T and I had been friends for a little while and got along great.  Plus there was no romantic entanglement there.  I really had no attraction to Thirsty T and I know the feeling was mutual.  I was already dating The Man and he was fine with the arrangement.

Ahh but the family was not so fine with it.  Mom was mortified.  How could I be moving in with a guy!  "You weren't raised that way!" she told me.  I guess she conveniently forgot that my sister lived with her boyfriend for several years before they married.  Never underestimate the power of denial.  Yes it was a scandal.  It was out of the realm of things that occurred in my family.   Living with someone, not my boyfriend.  "What happens when you take a shower and come out of the bathroom in just a towel?  He'll get ideas," mom warned me.  Wow, I'm flattered!   Or am I outraged?  Did mom think that just my mere presence in a towel was going to send Thirsty T into a rapist frenzy?   And what will people say!  How can she explain this to people?  Alas, my poor mother is always concerned with what people are going to say.  She was spurred on by my brother who was absolutely aghast that I was doing this and that The Man would "allow" it.   As I recall it, his reaction to The Man not caring about the living arrangement was, "well, he just better protect what's his!"  Wow, Neanderthal much?

It became quite apparent to anyone who has known me that from about the age of 14 on that I was going to do what I was going to do and there really wasn't much that anyone could say to change that.  I set my own rules, I do my own thing and I like it that way.  It may take a round about way to get there, but in the end I always do.  So the idea that these objections were going to stop what I wanted to do was pretty much an exercise in futility.  But hey, they had to try I guess.  I really never understood the big deal.  We weren't sharing a bed or even a bedroom and really, so what if we were.  It was a sharing of expenses and a space.

We found the perfect place in Cleveland Hts.  It had two bedrooms, hardwood floors, gorgeous built ins, a big fireplace in the bedroom that would end up being mine, laundry facilities in the basement and it was $325 a month.  Not too shabby.  It was perfect.  And our landlord was a gem.  I loved this apartment.

We decorated it in a style I call Early Punk Rock... posters completely covering the walls (Clash, Siouxsie, Ramones, Sex Pistols, of course Peter Murphy and Bauhaus posters as far as the eye could see and so many others).  I had a stunningly huge poster of Mickey Rourke that made me swoon whenever I walked by it.  This was the late 80's before he became a plastic surgery disaster.  He was that smouldering masochist from 9 1/2 Weeks and the hauntingly depressing drunk in Barfly.  He was my fave.  And just look at him.  This is what he looked like then.  This is the poster I had on my wall, that I walked by several times a day.  Did I mention he was stunning.  He so was.  I haven't watched either of those movies in many years, but I used to know them pretty much by heart.  He was great.  Rumble Fish, Angel Heart, Diner, The Pope of Greenwich Village.  Ahh Mickey!   I love you so, you made me go off on a tangent! 

Besides posters our decor consisted of a mannequin (stolen from a dumpster of course) named Sheena, obviously, because she was a punk rocker.  A life sized cardboard cutout of Elvira.  Hand me down and/or thrift store furniture.  And of course, zebra print.  It was all a gal of 22 could ever want.  It was perfect and I ended up living there with TT for 5 years.   Five years of laughs, great times, parties, drunken debauchery, sex, loud music, insane neighbors.  Damn, why can't we stay 22 forever?

A Year

It was at this time last year that one of my best friends was diagnosed with lung cancer.  Lung cancer!  Not J!  It's pneumonia, it has to be, I remember thinking.  She's so healthy, she's never smoked a day in her life.  This is not real.  No she wasn't around second hand smoke.  I want to bury my head in the sand, stick my fingers in my ears and not listen, not hear it, don't tell me any more.  And I'm not even living it, I'm just the friend of the person living it.  But it was crushing.  And I cried, a lot.  Every time I thought of her, of that disease, I cried.

I didn't look things up online because I couldn't bear it.  Finding out more information seemed like a really bad idea to me.  And out of respect for J, who was having her own bouts of denial at knowing more, I opted to just take whatever information her husband was giving.  But my heart knew it was not good.  And I cried some more.  I cried because I love her.  I cried because it was the most unfair thing I had ever heard of.  I cried because she'd had enough to deal with in her life already.   I cried because I don't want to lose her.

We met because of a silly soap opera, one I have a website for.   As she likes to tell it, she wrote to me to disagree with something I said.   And when I wrote back I was kind and understanding, not a raving lunatic like so many others tended to be at the time.  I don't remember exactly, but I do know how I write back to people who are respectful when they write me.  I am respectful back.  An email friendship grew from there.  And one year I asked her if she wanted to come to NYC with me for the All My Children events.  She did.  We actually went together several times, with our friend T.  And the three of us had the greatest times.

I've found over the years that because of that All My Children website, I have met some of the best friends a woman can have.  And those friends are people that, without that website, I would never have had a chance to meet or know.  Truly how would a punk rock loving, purple haired and tattooed up freak of fucking nature in Ohio ever meet a woman from Cincinnati who works for a big medical insurance firm?  A teacher from Germany?  A New Hampshire home schooling mom?  A mother of two who works at her husband's company in upstate New York?  A freelance writer and foodie extraordinaire from Indiana?  A daycare owner in Austin, TX?  A caregiver, mom, and Corgi lover in Las Vegas?  A kick ass computer guru in Virginia?  And so many others.  They've enriched my life in so many ways. 

When J stopped watching AMC, as eventually just about all of my good friends I've met because of it have, it didn't stop our friendship.  We had long since stopped talking about it anyway.  We had other bonds, other commonalities, a real solid friendship.  She's been there for me at the worst of times.  She's had my back and been a voice of reason when I felt beyond all reason.  And now I'm doing the best I can to be there for her, to listen when she wants to talk, to be the supportive friend she's always been to me.  And I hope I'm doing at least half as good as she does.  Love you J... Shrink, Erase, Eradicate!!!