Anyone Still Out There?

I have always wanted to be a writer. I've written poetry since I was in grade school, short stories, essays...especially essays, and journaling of course.  After a friend I loved dearly died far too young, I hit a wall of writer's block that I only have ever periodically came out of.  That was 13 years ago.  Writer's block, frankly, sucks.  I have posted here, obviously, and have written a couple of poems here and there, but nothing with the frequency that I had before...

My blogging has always been part of the effort to break through the wall that somehow keeps me from putting the words in my head on paper correctly.  It hasn't been all that successful, obviously.  I recently realized that some of the reason it's been so difficult is that being funny became more important than what the words in my head were.  And being bat shit crazy, there's a lot of funny stuff in there.  But being bat shit crazy with more baggage than a drag queen on a pleasure cruise means there's a lot of dark shit, too.  I've been put in, and put myself in, very bad places in my life and it's left it's mark on, and not writing that is holding me back.

I've written some stuff over the last few months the past few months that I'll be polishing up and publishing over the next few weeks, trying to blog at least three times a week, at least one of those a poem.  And I'll try to limit the music posts, but I have great musical tastes, and if you are only hurting yourself if you don't at least check it out.

On that note...tonight's music comes from Amanda Palmer.  I have connected with her music in a way I never thought possible after reading some of the things she has said in interviews.  This song kills me, and I'm considering getting this chorus as a tattoo:

That's just me, so take me or leave me
But please don't need me, don't need me to need you to need me
Because we're here a moment the next we're dead
So love me or leave me but try not to need me.


Go forth and listen, gentle reader...

Carry On

My little sister is going through a big time break up...and, oh, I can so relate.  It makes my heart hurt to think about her going through this.  I have so much anger in me right now.  Anger at her ex, anger that I can't make this easier for her.  She's still living with her ex, and will be for the next two weeks while she works out the length of her two week's notice and gathers her things together.

She had hoped to be able to put it off until the beginning of October, by which time my cousin's house purchase will have finalized and she will be able to move into the in-law quarters in my cousin's new house, but for the sake of her mental health she is coming home much sooner, and will be staying with my parents until she can move into my cousin's house.

I am so looking forward to having her home, having her around family who love her and will remind her that she is a good person, and strong and loving and wonderful person.  That she is not a failure, that she is where she is because sometimes life deals us hands we never saw coming, and that when someone blindsides you and knocks the wind out of you and you feel like you'll never be able to take a deep breath again for all the pain in your heart, those who love you, your family and your friends will help you pick yourself up and dust yourself off and try again.


For you, my sister.  Because you are loved and you are strong and smart and kind.  Carry on...

Piano Playing Panty Peelers

I'm warning you right here, before your read a sentence further than you have to, that I'm on day 4 without my antidepressant medication.  Needless to say, I have no idea if what comes after this warning is worth your time, whether it makes sense or if, in a week, when I'm back on the meds and a little more evened out, I may come back here and go "What. The. Complete. Fuck?"  So, you know, if you feel like maybe you just want to wander away and look at pictures of disapproving rabbits, you go right ahead.  I promise not to track down readers by their IP address when I see that they clicked off my blog within a few seconds.  Or well...I'm sure that my meds will kick in before I have the chance to track you down, and I'll think better of it of planning extensive revenge.  Probably.

Anyway, there's this book out there called 50 Shades of Grey that is supposedly all the best things about sex and romance ever.  Or at least that's what people are saying.  I don't really know, because I had never heard of it before yesterday.  Because I live under a rock, apparently.

So, the way that I was introduced to this book was through this fabulous recap on a blog by writer Jennifer Armintrout, who I also had not heard of before yesterday, but who is ridiculously funny, and who writes really well, and whose books I now want to read in entirety.  I've already read one written under her pseudonym Abigail Barnette entitled Bride of the Wolf, which if you're looking for well written, incredible sexy erotica involving a werewolf, I highly recommend it, especially since I never once had the squicky, bestiality vibe I usually get from sexualized werewolves.  Also...I'd like to take a moment to appreciate the irony that Barnette is the pseudonym, while the unlikely sounding Armintrout appears to be her real last name.

Anyway...

Apparently, 50 Shades of Grey started out as Twilight fan fiction, which is abundantly obvious, despite furious claims by fans to the contrary.  It is Edward and Bella do BDSM...badly.  I'm not someone who is a heavily into the BDSM scene, but I have been curious about it, and as I do with anything that makes me curious, I researched the shit out of BDSM, something the author of 50 Shades apparently didn't feel the need to do, since she portrays BDSM as an outcome of childhood abuse and an inappropriate teenage relationship with a pedophile.  Now, I don't doubt there are people out there who have been damaged and can only experience pleasure through BDSM, but it's not the norm in the BDSM community.  And as an adult survivor of childhood physical and sexual abuse, I can tell you that it reliving what someone did to me as a child is not even a little bit sexy, and any BDSM activity I've ever been interested in would have stopped immediately if it even for a second reminded me of being abused as a child.

Okay...all that is interesting, and the sexual politics in the story are definitely something we should all be talking about.  Are we really wanting to encourage girls to read a book where the heroine feels she has to give in to things she doesn't want to do, just to keep her partner?

But, that is not the purpose of this post.  I don't want to have that conversation right now because, frankly it's too emotionally triggering for a woman with PTSD to have while off her meds.

Anyway, this book, 50 Shades of Grey, like Twilight, have women all over the country bemoaning the fact that their husbands and boyfriends are not as awesomely romantic as these fictional characters.  Women who are deeply disappointed not to be living with the men (Christian and Edward) in these books every day.

Now, I want to talk about something that Edward and Christian have in common...they are these dark and brooding characters who are so damn sexy that all females in their immediate vicinity want to drop their panties immediately upon seeing them.  (But, Christian is not not based on Edward...no...) They are, of course, perfect examples of the male physique, and they are dark and brooding.  And they both play the piano masterfully.  Wait...what?  Somehow, it's sexy for these guys to play the piano?  I don't know where that comes from, because I know when we were kids, we always pictured the boys who took piano lessons to look like this:

Now, don't get me wrong.  I have some amazing guy friends who are probably deeply embarrassed when their moms show people the pictures in which they look exactly like this boy.  And they grew up to be pretty cute guys.  But...paragons of all things that exemplify masculine beauty do not look like this.  They just don't.  Which is why, in the Twilight movies, Edward looks like this:

And it's rumored that Christian from 50 Shades of Grey is going to look like this:

With all due respect to my nerdy male friends, who are too fucking awesome for words, this:

Does not grow into this:

I'm sorry, but it just doesn't.  And, you know what?  I'm actually glad that's the way it is.  It would be really, really fucking unfair if you got to be that incredibly hot and also you were this cool, nerdy guy who played the piano.  The cool, nerdy guys who play the piano have a lot to offer.  Guys who look like that, usually, well...they don't.  They're asses.  Because they fucking know they are hot, so why do they have to be cool, interesting guys?  They don't.  They just have to sit there and smolder and half the women in the room will have to go and change their panties.  Cool, interesting guys are that way because they have interests outside of what hair gel makes their hair look just messy enough to be hot.  They have spent their lives learning that earning romantic attention means having something to bring to the table, something that's going to make women want to talk to them rather than the guy smoldering away at the end of the bar.

But then, tonight, as I was listening to my iPod and crying like a fucking idiot (I mentioned the part where I'm not on my meds, right?) it hit me.  There are two songs that are responsible for this whole piano playing, romantic, hot guy bullshit....

Fucking Brenda Russell with her Piano In The Dark:

And fucking Lauryn Hill with her Killing Me Softly:

Those. Fucking. Bitches.  Seriously, are they trying to make women feel like their men are not panty dropping material unless they are not only accomplished men, but accomplished men who are hot and can play the piano?  Between those women and Stephanie Meyer and E.L. James, they are ruining sex lives every where.  Brenda Russell and Lauryn Hill laid the groundwork, instilling these damn songs into our collective American female psyche, and then those bitches Stephanie Meyer and E.L. James come along and cement the bullshit idea that this hot, piano playing, brooding guy is the only kind of guy who can and should have access to our wet panties.

Look, ladies....I've dated musicians.  In fact, my only serious relationships of my adult life were with musicians, and this after my musician sperm donor biodad walked out on me at age four.  (I know, I know....my psychiatrist has a field day with that one, let me tell you...)  And, in dating musicians, I've also spent a lot of time with their musician friends and, you know what?  Musicians don't make good partners, because you will always, always come second to the music, ladies.  Yeah, they may do charming shit at first and play music for you and make it seem all romantic and shit...that doesn't last.  You end up resenting the flotsam and jetsam that musicians strew around your home.  You resent the nights that they don't come home and take out the trash because they're out playing music.  You resent the fact that you have to wear headphones to read because of the incessant practicing.  When you've heard a song five hundred times, it's not romantic anymore.  It's fucking annoying.

So, even if you manage to find your, hot, brooding piano player, he isn't going to give up the piano for you...anymore than an artist is going to stop painting for you, or a writer is going to stop writing for you.  And as a sometimes writer myself, I can tell you that no matter what, the art is the first and purest love in an artist's life.  Even if they aren't playing or painting or writing because life and family and all of that gets in the way, the art is still the deepest love.  And, if they do give up the music for you, they are going to resent your ass.  It's not going to be all romance and roses anymore.

So, okay...read these books, listen to these songs.  Enjoy them.  I sure as hell do.  But, understand that these books are fantasy.  Edward Cullen doesn't exist, and not because he's a vampire, but because that person, the perfect, sexy amazing man who never annoys you or resents you or makes you want to strangle him doesn't fucking exist.  And why would you want that guy, anyway?  Look at how Bella/Ana is always so filled with shattering angst about how these gods among men are just too good for them.  Yeah, that sounds like a fun and sexy way to go through life.

Adventures in Self-Love

I really wish Blogger would quit changing shit...or that maybe I was around often enough to notice and understand the changes.  Mostly, though, it's the option that requires on effort of my part.  That's just how I roll.

Ahem.

Anyway, I am here for once, and it's not just to post a video to a song that's roughly the same age I am.  Though, I admit that'll likely happen next.  And not just because listening to songs that are as old as I am makes me feel younger.  It's because sometimes the words in my head get garbled somewhere between my brain and my fingers, and so it's easier to post someone else's words and go..."Yeah, what she said."

I am recovering from a fantastic, but exhausting weekend.  My younger sister came to visit and we decided that , dammit, we deserved some fun.  So, we thought we'd head out to the Italian Picnic, which is a lot like a county fair without the livestock, but with the added bonus of bocce ball.  And, since it's one of the Amador County events, usually you run into everyone you've ever slept with, and their brother...and if you're anything like me, you've probably slept with them, too.  Strangely, I only saw a handful of people I knew, which probably means I'm getting old.  So, after a brief lap of the picnic, during which I was reminded that heels and grass are a bad combo, we headed off to a local bar, to have some fun.

And we did have fun.  I got the older sister to join us, and the midget's dad and his lovely girlfriend were there as well.  We listened to a band that plainly prescribed to the theory that if you can't play it well, you should at least play it loud.  There were a surprising number of people in a very small space, and the bartender made a mean White Russian.  Once our eardrums had been thoroughly assaulted and I had clearly had enough alcohol, we headed off to Denny's (also an Amador County tradition) and ate greasy food to soak up the alcohol.

The evening, combined with a weekend of family time has made me quite exhausted and achy, but my soul feels better than it has in a long, long while.  We're doing it again next month.  It's part of my new "take care of Laura" plan.  And frankly, I need it.  As much fun as I have hanging out with my family...and I do have fun, it's not the same.  Sometimes, I need to not be someone's mom or aunt.  Plus...I need a break from my cousin...I love her dearly, but her continuous unhappiness over everything is wearing.

Look, I get depression.  I understand how it sucks all the color out of the world, and covers even the best things in your life with shit.  It makes you feel like nothing has ever felt okay, and like it will never end.  I get that, but you can't wallow all day, every day.  You can't turn everything into a tragedy and you can't stop finding the humor in shit.  You have to laugh despite the shit, despite the depression.  Because if you don't, then what's the fucking point?

I've got a few more plans in the near future, things that are designed to make me furiously happy.  I've got lunch with a very old friend next week, and another night out with my sisters next month.  I'm talking dancing on tables and waking up in the morning with my fake eyelashes stuck to my nose, going, "Damn that was fun."  I can't wait!

And, because I have to share my musical obsession...here's what's on repeat on my iPod this week...

These Old Friends

This song, like so many old country songs is an old, old friend. It was one of the first songs I ever knew by heart. My heart hurt a lot the day Waylon Jennings died....I saw him live once, with the rest of the Highwaymen, and it's a memory I'll treasure forever. I'm listening to old songs tonight, thinking about days that are probably best forgotten. Thankfully, I have these old friends to get me through...


 

 On a somewhat related note...I'm in love with the History Channels miniseries, The Hatfields and McCoys. Tomorrow night is the last night, and I may end up missing it because my oldest niece, the one born when I was a very young 17 is graduating tomorrow night, and I'm going to be there come hell or high water.

On My Own

Still Whiny

I'm in love with this song....I'm immersing myself in music, in writing, in anything trying to pull myself out of this dark hole I've crawled into.

A New Anthem

You know how you meet some people and you think they should come with a warning label, up front? I'm probably one of those people. To people who know me well, the fact that I'm a bitch is just sort of how things are...just a part of me. Like the big hair and even bigger ass.

People who don't like me say it like it's a bad thing, and maybe it is. But, I'm a fiercely loyal bitch, so if I love you, I'm in your corner 100% and even though I'm likely to say something like, "You know, you're nice to the point of stupidity..." I'm also going to give you the shirt off my back if you need it and cook you a warm meal.

I'm loving this song right now. It's cheesy and sort of gimmicky, but definitely catchy, and really fun.

Crazy With Anger

I live in a small town. A very small town...actually a collection of small towns referred to by residents and former residents as "The County." Yes, we capitalize it because it's a proper name, you see.

One of the benefits of living in a small town is that you are always running into people you know. This means people stop their cars in the middle of the street to chat, that we say "Hi" and give hugs in grocery markets. It also means if your battery dies or you have a flat tire, if you wait a few minutes someone you know will be along and you can get some help. It also means you see your ex a lot...or your ex's ex.

I try to think of myself as an essentially good person. I don't always succeed in thinking of myself that way, but I usually do. I try not to hurt people, and when I do hurt someone, it's usually unintentional, though I must admit to having a wee vindictive streak. This streak usually manifests itself in mostly harmless ways. I giggle when something bad happens to someone I don't like. Okay...I'll be honest. There are only three people in this world I actively dislike. The EG, her current wife, and the midget's former stepmother. And, unfortunately, they all still live in my county. Sightings have become rare because we just don't move in the same circles. The EG and her wife no longer have children attending the same school as my nieces, and I don't go out to the bars, where the midget's former stepmother hangs out.

However, because those sightings have become so rare, when they do, I kinda go crazy with anger. Thankfully, the more recent sightings have been while we're both in separate cars, I have managed to avoid any kind of major incident. I really don't need a criminal record at this point, and frankly, I'm pretty sure they could all take me. It's not exactly a difficult thing to do...I'm sort of fragile these days.

It's just....I don't wanna be that person. The crazy with anger person. I really need to believe that, deep down, I'm a good person. And good people don't go around assaulting other people, no matter how much provocation one might have endured.

I was listening to music tonight, as I usually do when I'm troubled by something, and I've got Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood by Nina Simone on repeat. And this is what's resonating with me tonight:

I'm just a soul whose intentions are good,
Oh, Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood.

So, yeah, while I may lunge out my window and offer a less than appropriate hand gesture, or spew epithets in their general direction, it's not as though I'm actively sabotaging them, or sending them envelopes full of Anthrax, and that's gotta count for something, right?

My Music

A million years ago, when the midget was a mere babe in arms, and the EG (from now on, the exgirlfriend will simply be referred to as EG)and I had just started dating (for lack of a better term), we were young, and energetic, and my body hadn't yet betrayed me. We were able to stay up all night talking, listening to music and still handle the rigors of baby duty the next day. We also went on road trips...sometimes for the day, and sometimes longer. Music was always always a big part of that. The latest cd from whatever indie artist we were obsessed with at the time in the cd player, and often we were on our way to show, or back from a show.

Whatever. It was always about the music back then. In many ways, I'm still that way. I'm a notorious dictator when it comes to the music in my car, or any car I'm driving. I try to drive as much as possible just to be able to be the one who controls the stereo. Even if I have similar music tastes as the other people in the car, I want my music, not their version of the same songs.

I was big into mix tapes, and then cds, back in the day before my iPod came into my life. There's not a radio station out there that plays what I love. I've even tried building a station on Pandora to hear new stuff that might interest me. But, either I'm just really, really picky, or I somehow short circuit Pandora's algorithms when I type in Waylon Jennings, Eminem, Melissa Ferrick, Ani Difranco, Britney Spears, Nine Inch Nails, The Eagles, The Mamas and The Papas, New Kids on the Block (yes, I hear you laughing) etc... Once, in my late teens/early twenties my entire cd book was stolen out of the car and I was sooo pissed. Because you know whoever stole it, flipped through it, went Huh? and dumped in the trash somewhere.

While I still listen to nearly everything I listened to in the early days of life with the midget and the EG, I obviously don't get to live shows very often. And this sucks, since some of the artists I love (Melissa Ferrick and Abandon Theory to name a few) are very independent artists whose music you won't hear on the radio or see on TV, so you would usually hear new music at their shows, and that's where you'll buy the cd for 10 or 15 bucks. These days, (since I'm a broke-ass bitch) I don't get to shows, and even if I did, I can't afford the cds. Most of what I listen to now I "borrow" from the internet. I dislike doing this for indie artists because the only way they can make money to keep playing the music I love is for me and their other fans to buy the music, and go to the shows. I don't feel guilty for downloading an old Nine Inch Nails album I used to have, but either lost or destroyed somewhere along the way, but I feel mucho guilt when it's someone whose very artistic career depends on the cds they sell. Trent Reznor will still be able to play and make music if me and a hundred others download his albums...Abandon Theory may not.

Anyway...I had a point back before my tangent, at least I think I did... I miss going to shows, or being able to buy new music. And an eensy little part of me misses having someone in the house who can play music. Not enough to ever date a musician again, but still...just a little. I guess I miss the spontaneity and the freedom of being young and healthy. It's been said before, by people a lot older than I, but youth really is wasted on the young. I would love to have a word or two with my younger self about squandering all those possibility filled days on the couch back in my younger years. Had I known I was going to run out of fuel so early...well...best not to focus too much on what I might have done, I suppose.

So, I don't know that I have a point, except to introduce the reason why I'm posting yet another video. I spent part of today cruising YouTube for music, and found this. It's live, which is pretty much the only way to listen to Melissa Ferrick, because even though she's an accomplished studio musician, there is something about her energy that doesn't translate. It may be why she never achieved widespread fame, despite an early recording contract with a "real" record label. It's called I'm Gonna Break Your Heart and it's emotionality is rough, but that's one of the things I love most about her music. I'd love to see her play again, but the closest she usually comes is San Francisco, a three hour drive away, and I doubt that anytime she's there I'll magically have the energy to drive all that way, then stand in line at whatever club she's playing, and then stand through the show, even supposing I could come up with the money to make it happen. However, should you find out she's in your city, you should go and see her play. She's sheer genius...brilliantly talented, fantastically educated, and not too hard on the eyes...

Music Friday

I've been updating my playlists on my iPod, and every time I do that, I run into a song or three or twelve that I really love that I haven't heard in a long time, and they get stuck on repeat. Today, it's a Fiona Apple number...it reminds me to like who I am.

Hope all my peeps out there have a beautiful weekend.

Fiona Apple, Extraordinary Machine





If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can't help it, the road just rolls out behind me
Be kind to me, or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine

Video Thursday

I love Adele. Love her voice, love her music...she's beautiful. And this song "Rolling in the Deep"...it's phenomenal. I had it on constant repeat for a while, and it's still in my top ten most played on my iPod. I just never get tired of it.

Happy Sunday!

One of my new favorite songs The midget's father's new girl played it for me yesterday, and I laughed and laughed and laughed. I don't ever genuinely wish bad things for people, really I don't...

Shhh...I'm trying to hear something...

I'm not big into mysticism, and while I've said things like, "These things happen for a reason" I don't actually mean that I think there's someone or something out there with a plan. Nor do I think that Tarot cards or runes or the I Ching know some secret we don't. However, I do think things like Tarot cards can be useful for understanding things your subconscious is trying to tell you. It can be a useful way to meditate.

On a related note, I had an episode this week that, were I of the mystic mind, I'd say was an indication that the universe was trying to send me a message. For some reason, I had an urge to find a friend of mine from my carnie days. (Long story that I'll go into at some point, but the short of it is, at the age of 12, my biomom took my sister and I out on the road with the carnival for a year and a half.) Through the magic that is Facebook, I found her through her brother as she's since married and changed her name. Ironically, she'd just had a conversation with that same brother about me, well, about us. Said friend and I had an unfortunate habit if curling our bangs about six inches off our foreheads. Hey, it was the '90s. Quit judging me!

So, after an evening spent in fond reminiscence, fell asleep last night going over the happier memories of that period in my life. (Yeah, there are ugly memories, I was after all, a 12 year old in a very shady adult world, but let's not focus on that, shall we?) Then today I spent the day doing a time consuming errand that led to any even more time consuming errand. In the car, on the way there, I heard a song I haven't heard in years. And I mean....maybe 15 years or so. This song was one I listened to obsessively at the time. I wore out a cassette tape listening to the song.

It's all connected, but there are a million tiny coincidences every day that don't throw up this flag, this feeling of connectedness. I feel like my subconscious mind is trying to tell me something. Why is this significant right now? What am I trying to remind myself? Is there something about that time in my life that applies to my life today? Is it just that I'm getting old and that's what we do when we're old, is remember when we were young? No...I'm not that old damn it. I just feel like...I'm missing something here...

And for your listening enjoyment (actually I mean mine, I admit it) here's the song. You probably have never heard it, or if you did, you likely don't remember it, but I loved this song. It's by a girl group from the very early '90s called The Cover Girls. Enjoy, and don't mind me...I'll just be in the corner over here, humming this song and taking a stroll down memory lane.

I Loved You First

Arthritis robbed me of my Christmas spirit

I'm trying to find my Christmas spirit. I've had it as I did all of my Christmas shopping online. I had it when I was sobbing over this amazing miracle The Bloggess inspired in so many people. I had it this weekend while I was making dough ornaments with the midgets and her cousins. I even had it as I was wrapping presents last night.

This morning, though, I woke up with a raging motherfucking arthritis flare. I can barely walk and there isn't a single position that feels comfortable or pain free. It's some bullshit, yo! I'm taking massive doses of NSAIDs and Tramadol and from time to time Vicodin and it's still agony. Makes it hard to think about Christmas and Santa and all that bullshit.

The only thing that's helping at all is singing this song at the top of my lungs, I don't know why...maybe it's the beat, which is truly groovy...or maybe it's yelling "Fuck You" at the top of my lungs.

Poor, neglected blog...

I'm such a bad, bad blogger. I haven't been able to find a few moments to write more than a thought or two at a time, certainly nothing that would even vaguely resemble a blog post.

My life is so full these days. The midget, school, family, doctor's appointments...it's a whirlwind. I'm supposed to be doing homework right now and instead I'm hopping around the interwebs like a squirrel on crack and listening to music with my younger sis.

I'm posting this song because it popped up on my iPod and I was struck again with the message. It's so totally how I feel about love and relationships. It's unfortunate that being honest and saying I don't use words like "forever" and "only" in reference to love means that I have spent years defending my decisions to never get married, or promise monogamy.

One of the exgirlfriend's many complaints about me was that I refused to get married. I never promised her forever, and that was wrong to her. The irony? She promised forever, and then left. I always took her promises with a grain of salt, because I think everyone wants to believe in forever, and think it's going to happen. I don't think she made the promises knowing that someday we would not be together. The things I've been through have taught me that your entire universe can change with no notice whatsoever. Everything you know and believe is ever evolving and adaptable. It is easy to say that you will love forever, but the reality of loving forever means that you love when the shit hits the fan, and that's so much easier said than done. It takes guts to stick it out when life hands you a crap hand, as it often does. It takes more strength than I have to love someone when you find out your vision of that person is very different from who she really is inside.

So, if you can't promise forever, does that mean that there's no point to loving at all? If you're more cynical than I am, then I suppose the answer is yes, but for me love is always valuable, even love that has an expiration date. I am a better person for loving the people I have loved in my life. And, frankly, just because someone you love stops being who you thought she was, that doesn't mean the love goes away, it just becomes something else. If you throw away everything you've learned and been because the love turns out to be something different than you envisioned, you're robbing yourself of all the glorious beauty life offers.

Anyway, this song always makes me think of people I've loved in my life, makes me wish that my "love you today" philosophy was better understood, and shared by more people.

Better...

This song got me through some very rough moments after the exgirlfriend left.




I am better. Happier. Just plain happy. I am strong again, for myself and for the midget. I am planning for a future that includes my family and my friends and the people I love so much who got me through those dark days.

Last night the midget had another of her breakdowns about missing the exgirlfriend. This after coming back from her dad's house and having had a similar breakdown in front of her dad. And I wish there was some way I could promise the midget that it won't hurt some day.

But, I can't. I lost a girlfriend, a lover, a friend...but she lost a parent, and I know how that feels, when you have a parent walk out on you. I know that for the rest of your life you wonder what you have done to make them stop loving you and what you could have done differently to make them love you.

I've spent years in therapy going over how it was never my fault, that my biodad bailing had nothing to do with me. I've discussed it with my friends, my new family...and I've even discussed it with my biodad. I know intellectually that it wasn't my fault...but, emotionally? Well, that's a whole other ball of wax. I know that so much of my self hatred comes from that feeling...that "how can anyone ever want me, when my own parents didn't?"

And I know it's different for the midget. She is surrounded by love daily. There has never been a moment in her life that she has been alone, or that she has doubted that she had people who loved her. But there is a part of me that asks...is this going to screw her up? Is this going to be the thing that breaks her so that she's constantly seeking approval from outside sources, like I am?

The hardest part for the midget is that the exgirlfriend is there peripherally. So, she sees the exgirlfriend for five minutes here and ten minutes there, but never alone and never in the parenting role. This is a woman she knew as her mother all of her fucking life, and now she gets to watch her be a parent to someone else's kid while she is pining for her mom. I could forgive the exgirlfriend for everything she did, the lies she's told the drama she caused...all of it. But, this? Watching my daughter go through her diagnosis and all of the hell she's gone through without her other mom? I can never forgive this.

I can only hope that my love, my family's love, her father's love will be enough for the midget. That she will be able to see and understand that the exgirlfriend's choices have absolutely nothing to do with her, but that instead the exgirlfriend is irretrievably broken in some deep way she cannot understand and I cannot explain. I can only hope that as the midget faces down the next few years of her life, arguably the most difficult years for any girl, that she doesn't internalize the exgirlfriend's choice to walk away as some sort of proof that she is not good enough, or that she is in some way undeserving of love.

I just wish there was a way that I could heal this for her and make it better, but I can't. I've tried. I've begged the exgirlfriend a million times to make time for the midget. I've offered to set up diabetes education so that she can have one on one time with the midget, and I've gotten no response. This is the one thing that never gets better.

Exciting? I'll pass....

What's that saying about the worst thing you can do to someone is wish them an "exciting life?" Yeah, I tried to google it, but google's being an asshole and gave me NOTHING. It kind of fits in with the theme I've got going on this week.

Recent Events (in no special order, because that would require brain function I just don't have):

My Mom has been diagnosed with a Thymoma (tumor of the Thymus) and is now awaiting her appointment with the surgeon so they can cut open her chest and remove it.

The midget has been ill and has accordingly had the worst blood sugar readings she's had since diagnosis, including a meter reading which said HI...and yeah it said it all cheerful, like with big letters like it was an old friend I hadn't seen in a long time. Glucose meters are kind of assholey.

My younger sister had a birthday party at her house which I did not get to attend, due to the midget's illness and the havoc it's wreaking on it's illness.

I have been dealing with difficult blood sugar readings and am trying to complete three Excel spread sheets in four hours but due to my sleep deprivation, I keep surfing the web like a squirrel on crack.

Charlie erased about half of one the spreadsheets I was working on. Charlie's kind of an asshole sometimes...

I have become addicted to the show Veronica Mars three years after it was canceled thanks to the beauty that is Netflix.

I've discovered, through the aforementioned Veronica Mars addiction, a fantastic band called The Dandy Warhols and am currently obsessed with their music.

The midget's father has decided (finally) to go to AA and stop drinking. Said decision came the day after I spent an hour on Facebook chat trying to talk him down while I waited for the midget's blood sugar to drop under 400.

I didn't take my antidepressant for a day and I missed a dose of my thyroid med, too...and I was a total asshole for the subsequent two days, much to the dismay of everyone around me.


So, yeah...I'm kinda flailing here at the moment. I'm hoping this bug, whatever it is, that has the midget's numbers all wonky will resolve itself quickly.

Anyway, here's the song that got me hooked on The Dandy Warhols. You must love it, as I have loved it, and there will be joy.

See...I'm paraphrasing The Princess Bride. Clearly a sign of sleep deprivation.

We Used to be Friends-The Dandy Warhols

Enjoy this musical interlude

I've been a busy girl lately. School, teaching the midget, life...damn diabetes. All of that.

I don't have the time and energy for a real post, so here's some music to while away a few moments.



I'm currently obsessed with this song and it's driving the midget crazy. But it's awesome!!

Brand New Key by Melanie


And this, too. Though the midget likes this one, so it doesn't bother her that it's on constant replay.

Secret by the Pierces


And last but by no means least...this one.

Love the Way You Lie by Eminem feat. Rhianna