sentimental hogwash

I just glanced through my last couple of posts, good grief, what a dorky mood I must have been in! Sentimental hogwash, as Mr. Potter would say (that's a reference to It's a Wonderful Life by the way) Anyway, another month of Valentine's day crap has cleared my head again - it really is one of most ridiculous excuses for wasting money out there, as far as "holidays" go. That's just my opinion of course. I am not nor ever have been a conventional romantic. Looking back over the years, I realize that I have a tendency to ruin potentially romantic moments by making some kind of smart ass comment to the poor sap who was attempting to woo me at the time. No moment is sacred. I actually turned my first husband's marriage proposal into a joke. He responded by shoving me into a snow bank. I married him anyway, but not for long. It was for the best, he really had no sense of humor. Perhaps that is the secret to winning my heart. For example, while I will readily admit there are many sexy actors out there to lust after, it's the funny men who I really love. Of course, it doesn't hurt if a guy happens be funny AND really good looking. Naturally I'm talking about actors still. I am currently married again, and while he's an attractive man, I'm not sure that I would call him a funny man. But he definitely lured me in that way. For our first date he took me to Spike and Mike's Sick and Twisted Film Festival, where I laughed until I cried many times at the series of over the top hilarious short films.  So maybe that's how it all started - he tickled my funny bone, and now here we are. And I realize that he is not really a funny guy, that in fact he is a pretty serious guy. Somewhere along the way he seems to have lost his sense of humor or maybe just his joie de vivre. I'm sure I have contributed somehow to this, and it probably doesn't help when I call him Mr. Negative to his face, but I don't know what else to do, other than revert back to my smart ass ways. Maybe I just thought he was somebody else, and the whole thing is my own bloody fault. Ha, joke's on me! But seriously. Is "not being funny" grounds for divorce? Is that what it will all come down to?
Charlie Chaplin once said that "in the end, everything is a gag." Here's one from Alan Alda that is very fitting, "When people are laughing, they're generally not killing each other." Maybe that's it.Maybe Reader's digest had it right all along, could laughter be the best medicine? Could laughter save a marriage? Forget romantic dinners, head to the nearest comedy club! What the hell, if nothing else maybe it will give me something funny to write about.

first love

oh my how serendipitous. When last I wrote, I was lamenting of lack of love, or love lost, or some such thing. And then upon the same eve, (how poetic does "eve" sound?) as I was searching for something completely different, I came upon some ancient memorabilia from my past, as in high school drama festival programs, all signed with various high schoolish poetic dictations. However, there was one signee throughout all 3 years of programs who had a somewhat more special note, most notably in our final year when he took up the entire inside cover of my program with his rambling yet earnest, heartfelt very 17 year old profession of love to me. Yes, it's true, he was my "first love", corny as it may sound to some. Anyway, it was clear when he wrote to me that we knew we were going to part ways soon after graduation, and yet he still asked me to stay in touch, always and forever. And the funny thing is, that we did just that. We lost touch for few years at one point, then caught up again, but other than that, we still talk almost every day. Strange. Of course, thank god for Facebook, which makes it all possible. He wasn't popular with my mother, or my sister, but then, no one was.
Listen to me. You'd think I still had a crush or something. :) Funny to think that since all that, we've both been married, divorced, had children, blah blah blah. He lives on the other side of the world, and we haven't seen each other for nigh on 25 years, but I still dream about him from time to time. Strange how certain people get into your consciousness, or unconsciousness as the case may be. I may never see him again, but I will never forget our first kiss, the moment of his lips and mine together, the smile we had for each other afterwards. Is that love? If so, I will hold on to it. That's not wrong. What is our life if not for experience?

Love?

When did I stop believing in love? Because I just realized that I have. When did I last feel that ache, that tingle, that pull towards someone? Listening to a "love"song tonight and it hit me. I am living in a place of relative comfort, albeit with too much disturbance on a way too regular basis to call "happy" or content. I mean, if you would call making plans to leave your husband very seriously at least once or twice a year a "disturbance". And then things settle...is love overrated? I can absolutely guarantee that those who are in love right now would most definitely say a big no to that question. Am I destined to just deal with what I have, or go out on my own and take what I can get? Or just enjoy my own company? Which sometimes really sounds pretty appealing. Less complicated for sure. But seriously. Do you remember that feeling? That longing, that absolute pain/desire/got to be near you sensation that I guess is love? That purring pleasure of being with that person? Because if I dig a little, there it is. I have felt that. And honestly, I don't know if I could go through all that yet again in my life. Love is all consuming, to the point of destructive, to your self, your sense of individuality. Or it can be, I guess it doesn't have to be. Should I chalk it up to luck that I've had it, and more than once, and be satisfied? Stay tuned.

Perfect score

Damn. Damn damn damn. So I am currently playing a game with a bunch of women. A lose weight change your lifestyle get healthy kind of game. With points, penalties and score cards. And damned if some of those women the first week pulled a "oh I didn't know about that rule, can I have a free pass this week without taking a penalty?" like at least 3 times, which we were all nice enough to say, okay, sure, and then today on posting your week 1 scores lo and behold they the "oops" team posted the highest score, just short of perfect, which just barely beat out both of the other 2 teams. So now as administrator of the game I have to both deal with the disappointed other players who know full well that certain other players took advantage of them and posted higher scores, and the other players themselves by having to post gentler, kinder yet hand slappier posts to them to say please don't fuck with us again this week or we will have something really nasty to say about you bitches who are not playing fair? I mean, if it was just for the glory of winning that would be bad enough - yes, I am a competitive bitch - but come on, we are bucking up money on this game. I myself have played more often than any other player, and I'm telling you, this is the worst bunch of cheating I have seen yet. Ah well. I could say that I drowned my leadership sorrows in 2 bottles of wine, or I could say that I will just smile, get up tomorrow and bust my ass twice as hard at aquafit followed by a bike ride and some serious portion control all week. And you can just forget about our so called "day off", at least for this week. I have a feeling there will be some "perfect" scores being reported, and I for one will do so 100% honestly. Or close enough. :)

Snooze means snooze, mother****er...

That's right. Snooze means snooze, as in what the snooze button is for. At least as far as I'm concerned. Snooze does not mean come over here and grab my boob and rub my ass. It means get the hell back over on your side of the bed and don't move, I'm trying to SNOOZE for a few more minutes. Which I cannot do when you are groping me. If it meant that it was time to push your penis into the small of my back and rub yourself on me, the button would say something like POKE, or SEX IT UP, not snooze.
Oh and by the way, none of this should be news to you. I have been explaining this every morning for the past 11 years or so. It's time for you to accept it, and move on.
That is all. Love you, and have a nice day.

Bee cool

Monday monday. It's raining, it's cold. Last week it was sunny and snowy. Sorry, this isn't supposed to be a fucking weather report. Feel like I'm running to catch up with myself. Sometimes this whole wife/mother gig is just not what it's cracked up to be. Actually maybe it is, I just didn't know what I signed on for. Or I got more than I bargained for. That is more likely. Does everyone have a husband who goes off on them for absolutely no apparent reason at the end of what I thought was a nice day? A decent day anyway? He gets so unbelievably angry, and then if I ask why he is so angry, he screams that he isn't angry and would I fucking stop telling him that he is. Old news at this stage of my marriage. Don't get me wrong, I am far from a perfect person myself. There is obviously something I do to set him off. Or something I don't do. But is it worthy of that much retaliation? Okay, it's not like he hits me, but I do get weary of the verbal nastiness. And then if I eventually lose my cool and fight back, he immediately crows about how I shout too, blah blah blah. Last night I stayed cool. Actually since New Years I have pretty much stayed cool. My motto from then on was no more crying, stay cool. Basically it's for the kids, I don't want them to have to hear the fighting anymore. I'm sure many couples fight and the kids hear it, but it's enough at this point. Time to break old patterns, move ahead. It will either work, or it won't.
I'm basically a glass half full kind of girl. Sure I have my down moments, who doesn't? But they don't last long. Good thing, since I seem to also be the kind of girl that shit sticks to. Drama follows me relentlessly.
I'm getting honeybees this spring, going to have my own hive. The more I learn about bees, the more obsessed I am with them. Imagine, a world completely dominated by females. They keep a few males around for reproductive purposes, who by the way have their genitalia ripped from their bodies during sex and then die, and the ones who are still around at the end of the season get literally kicked out of the hive to starve and die. Meanwhile all the girls cozy up for the winter and then start it all over again in the spring. And this is what they have been doing forever. Of course, if I share this information with my husband, he assumes I am dreaming of emasculating him or at the very least throwing him over for a brood of lesbians.
Maybe I'm more the mason bee type. They just want to work and lay an egg here and there, and pretty much hang out on their own. Either way, I find myself looking forward to warm spring days in my garden with the hum of bees in the air. Better than this wet, cold winter.

Fresh eggs

Yes, it's the new year. After some hibernating for a couple of days after the big NY eve itself, I find myself deciding what actions to take this year. What is my plan? New Years eve went completely sideways, and I found myself facing some cold hard facts about my life, and the people I share it with. So. Rather than make resolutions, I have taken action already to organize my current situation. Number one, I threw out some garbage. Garbage as in crap that I have not wanted in my life for some time, and hopefully it is now gone for good. Hopefully no one is planning to press assault charges...

Number two, I laid some things out on the table, and hopefully finally managed to successfully communicate some pretty damn important shit to my significant other. I may be wordy but don't always get my point across.

What's next? Not sure, but I'm feeling some momentum building I think, so I need to keep this ball rolling. Why do we expect that a new year will bring better things? Does it ever really happen? If it does, why do people always feel the need to make resolutions, do better, start fresh every January 1st? I'm tired of listening to people talk the talk. I used to pride myself on being a "do-er". It's time for some action again.

It's been a while, but I'll just chalk it up to being a late bloomer. Bring it, 2012.