The Adventures of Mr. Nice, Silliness, and The Never Ending Battle

I promised someone I would write them a blog. Then I realized when someone requests creativity, my insides revolt against reason and refuse to produce anything worthwhile. Well, they do that anyways, it is just more agonizing when I know someone is waiting for some genius I don't posess.

The long and short of it is this: I want to write for you, but I have a hard time preparing for it. But I will write to you for as long as you would read it.

October fourth is coming. Just in case you were wondering. Have you marked it on your calendars? Good. Now would you like to know why this date is important? The Ex was (finally) served with the summons. October fourth marks the sixtieth day since his service. Which means he needs to have filed an answer with the courts by then. Do you think he will? From all that I have told you about him, do you believe that he will respect the deadlines for the US Judicial system?

You are a fool. Of course, he will not file an answer, or an extension. He probably hasn't even looked at the papers yet.

Would you like to know what that means? I shall tell you, in my most legal voice.

It means I will get my divorce by default and be ready to move on with my life.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Oh, silly me, how embarrassing...

The Boy has a fantastic new job, in case I forgot to tell you. It pays a billion dollars a year and it is the catalyst for our homesteading dreams. We have found a house, but I am hesitant to write about it, mostly out of superstition. I will tell you it is a five bedroom, two bathroom dream with a wrap around porch and more than a third of an acre. Go on, be jealous. We have amazing plans to change some of it into a lounge area and to have you all over for tea. I thought you would be excited.

When everything is finalized with the house, everything will fall in line with the divorce and then who knows what life will hold for me... What could be more exciting after everything I have waited for comes true?

We shall see. Well, you shall see and I shall write.

And then there was me.

A little taste of what I really think, in no order of consequence or necessity.

I think people without respect for the feelings of others should be given a new papercut everyday and have lemon juice poured in them.

I think I will be very content in our new house, whichever that maybe.

I know I love The Boy. Very much. I know that he is the best thing that has ever happened to me. He makes the sunshine fall on my face evryday, he wakes me up to life and lulls me to sleep at night. He kisses me and my heart leaps to greet his. He pats my head gently while I let my dreams run forth out of my mouth to fall all around him.

I think I will always want to rush life and not regret it until the very end.

I know I can be... difficult. I have tendencies to manipulate, smirk, hold prejudices, and, above all, try way too hard. I also know that I can obsess about the oddest things.

I have noticed that I have a hard time letting go. Not out of a need to control other people, but out of a need to control my environment, a need to be comfortable in my own place and time.

I think we have two options: self-destruction or self- propultion. Sometimes one action can have both effects.

I think Waking Life is representative of how many people live their lives. I also think the statement: "Yeah, you should totally, like, wake up, you know. If you can. Just like shout 'wake up' at yourself and yeah... definatly before you can't wake up anymore," holds extreme and essential truths we often times overlook.

I think I was born for school.

I think I will end it here and go live some life, while I still can.

What!?

Getting divorced can actually be bad for your mental health?

A stream on AOL news feed today posted an article about that very subject.

REALLY?

Yes, really.

And an anvil falling on your head still can kill you, Trix are still for kids, and Donnie Darko is still freaky as hell.

I have been wondering since the beginning of the end why this all has to be so hard. Why getting divorced has to be sooooo much more expensive than getting married. Why it has to hurt so much more, take so much longer, cause such a stir.

It's because we're supposed to be smarter than this.

We are supposed to take our time and think things through and not get wrapped up in people who are not wrapped up in us.

And I will.

Next Time.

But first, you must finish on chapter before beginning another, I suppose.

But I always did like to read ahead....

Love, life, and the pursuit of The White Picket Fence.

The Boy and I have been imaginary house hunting.

We have been looking at houses in the 212## in the pursuit of the perfect pad. And we have become increasingly discouraged.

Oh the houses we've seen are very nice. We have made it a point to scout out places with three to five bedrooms, .20 of an acre or more, 1.5-2.5 bathrooms and all other good things. We have found a ton of houses that are in a reasonable price range and that offer both the freedom of stable home with the need for renovation and with it, personalization.

What, then, could be the problem? The hitch? We have no money. Irony or ironies, It is a buyers market and we aren't buyers. We aren't even in the same market. We are outside, looking in, thinking, "My what lovely peaches you have there."

It is difficult to think that we could, if we were making what we will be in 1-2 years buy any one of the houses we have looked at and start painting the walls and hanging the pictures immediately. But we can't. Because we're not making money. We are waiting to make money.


Boo, Economy. You tricky little scamp you.

There is no "Up” in appreciation, Women, and other fallacies.

As the date draws near, I am more and more tense. I am overwhelmed by a sense that when all is said and done, life will be so perfect, so felicitous that the proverbs about being too good to be true will all manifest themselves in the worst possible way.

"When you're divorced,will that be the end of it?"

Oh Boy, one can only hope. But I have such horrible nightmares based on real live threats,accusations and insanities that I met with during my brief marriage to Beelzebub himself that I just do not know.

What if he does something crazy? I won't give you any ideas, just in case, but just think- what if?

In other troubling thoughts, I feel so grievous that I could not accomplish one of the only good things that could have possibly come out of my marriage. I didn't save anyone. I didn't convince anyone of their worth. I didn't show anyone how much more they could have out of life.

Watching people get beat daily by discouraging words from an uneducated, unfeeling dictator is hard. Walking away from that situation without having done the least bit of good is even more difficult.

I know that we can't expect everything to work out the way we want, that God works in mysterious ways, and that people chose their own destinies, etc.

But I still feel helpless.

I still feel like there was something I could have done, some encouragement I could have given, some protection I could have offered.

I know I should have called the police a dozen times or more. I know I should have pled with more than one person to free themselves of that wretched place. I know I should have been less tolerant of the dark and more shining myself.

All I can do now is live with the same of deserting the only shred of good that could have come out of my poor decisions. All I can do now is allow God to rebuild my life in a manner pleasing to Him and pray to be rid of the terrible memories- of the late nights, of the drug abuse, of the tyranny, of the dread.

And the rain, and the beating of feet upon the ground, and a finish line.

She looks behind her with tired eyes and marks the distance with a sharp mind.

Two year, too long, too weak to remember.

Dear Super Footwear Girl, when will you rest and send up a surrendering flag?

But she won't and she can't and she will finish this to the last. You just wait and see. All you former loves, you high school flames, and flimsy kisses, and evening romps, and missing matrimonies- you watch and wait for a glorious final show.

The countdown comes closer to a crescendo.
The Girl sheds the last few tears and beads of sweat to shake you off.

Tomorrow I fill out papers, I get information, I get my final push.
Ninety days hence, Lord willing, this is all over.

And then what shall be your next finish line to race to, little one?

Perchance, a beautiful baptism of love.

In my mind, I hold a string of blessed beads. I am the holder. He is The Boy.
I nurse dreams of sweet peace, with you, My Brown Eyed King.

Finis, absolutmente

Racing Homeward

Benny had to reason with herself.

Where should these thunderclouds come from?

Her tears fell for what seemed like the hundredth analogy of her life and she was sick with the poetry- sick of the words that were designed to cover up our truth. The truth of sadness. The truth that feeling is only what we make it because of our heart, our minds. Why wouldn't her heart die? Why couldn't Benny just be another faceless ape in a jungle of innocence and ignorance?

She should be- she could be- she would be.

Benny, like she had in so many more touching scenes before this one, which, in truth, only lasted five minutes and twenty- three seconds in a lifetime measured in years, folded her handkerchief one last time.

"The more we love, the more we hurt"

The words stung her acutely. It was a heavy truth.

Goodbye, sweet, young, Benny. Goodbye to the Benny who thought she had felt every pain the world had to offer her.

Hello to a new Benny. A sad Benny. A Benny who has failed her most dreaded test without the chance at another.

Goodbye, Ed. You have taken with you the last of what was a fleeting youth, at any rate.