An Ending of Sorts; Begining a New Course

I have found you. Or I would have found you, if you weren't already dead. Somehow I always knew, or thought I knew, or felt that I knew that this would be more dramatic than this. That there would be more than this. But this is the end and the end is all there is.

All my fervent wishing that you were or would be longing for me somewhere far or near with happiness or disappointment is over. I thought that the worst would be that you were busy loving someone else like I was sure I deserved to be loved. But that wasn't the case, and, as it turns out, that wasn't even the worst case.

You are gone, dead, and not just a fake dead where I am allowed to choose the terms. Not just a "You are dead to me, sir. I want you not." Dead as in never to breathe again. Dead as in never to see, never to hear, never to want, never to dream. Dead. Not even a cold, long, sad dead. Just a clean, ashen, gone dead.

And I am so disappointed.

I feel as though I have been cheated. You owed me so much and now your dead. You owed me so much and you didn't even have time to know what I deserved. The end of you was and is and always will be and I am still here and still have no way to say or see or know anything of you. And I am so disappointed. So cheated. So bereft. So angry.

I am a good kid. I always was a good kid. Sure, I throw temper tantrums. Sure, I had an awkward adolescence. Sure, I am flawed. But there is so much in me that warrants notice. There is so much in us all that you should have seen.

I know that you are not worth all of this. I know that you are just some illusion, some ethereal mist that I shouldn't concern myself with. But now I will never know. I will never get to make that decision myself. I will never get to look you in the eye and call you a cad- a coward- a cur. I will never get to cry to you, to plead with you, to hear your reasons and your pathetic excuse.

All I truly have now, at the end of this lifelong search for you- at the turning point when questions are answered and answers must be dealt with accordingly, and feelings must be cataloged and owned, and condolences allowed, and pride must surface to buoy the soul- all I have now is me. I get up and I look at my reflection, the reflection that seeing you was supposed to clear and restore in some way, and all I see is me.

A flawed, but completely whole, me.

And the only one to hear my complaints and deal with my tears and hold back my anger is me.

Young, disappointed, cheated me.

And what shall I allow myself? How shall I feel about you today, since you are not here to gauge my emotions, to approve or deny, to hide or to appear? Shall I remain forever hurt? Shall I remain forever tied to the idea that you could not love me, who in the world would?

No. I am not of you. I am just me. Whole, without you. Whole, even though I hurt. Whole, and sufficient.

I can be the best me, without you.
I am the best me, without you.
I am me, without you.
I am me; without you.

Fiddle-dee-dee, Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen unanswered questions from The Great American Novel, Gone with the Wind

If you have yet to read it, do so now. If you are afraid by the sheer volume of the book, don't be. Every page is worth it.

1. Does Scarlett go back to Tara?
2. Is Mammy still alive when/if she does?
3. Where did Cathleen Calvert Hilton end up?
4. Was Scarlett and Rhett's unborn child a boy or a girl?
5. What did Rhett tell Melly during his drunken bout?
6. Where was Will Benteen from?
7. Did Tony Fontaine make it to Texas?
8. Why didn't Alex Fontaine marry Dimity Monroe and move her in with him and his sister-in-law?
9. How did Old and Young Miss die?
10. How much longer can Ashley live without Melanie?
11. Why did Rhett join the army after Atlanta fell?
12. How much money did Rhett really have? How much of it did he earn before the war?
13. Could Rhett and Scarlett ever have reconciled?

neetrihT yadsruhT

Thirteen Exclamations I never forget to include:

1. Seriously?
2. Whatever Ticks your Tock.
3. I am so PUMPED!
4. That's what she said...
5. You're a (_______________.)
6. (_____________) to the extreme.
7. No, I don't watch/ read Twilight.
8. Yuppers.
9. BEEEEEEBE!
10. Yes, she really is my mother.
11. Louise, not Felice, Alice, Elise, Eloise, Lisa, or Melissa.
12. Plant a seed, plant a flower, plant a rose. You can plant anyone of those.

Fleeting Dreamtime Made-up Memories.

I saw you last night, or more likely this morning, at 4:16 am, just before I noticed it was too hot to sleep. You were slender and slight and owned an antique shop for fun.

Your hand was outstretched and from it, your daughter took $1,000 cash and a $1,000 prepaid credit card to buy herself new bras and to take me and her aunt out to dinner. You couldn't possibly come, you were too busy.

I gasped when you said how much money but what do I know, maybe it was her birthday. She was so pretty. She flipped her head, full of thick blonde hair and smiled as she put on her sunglasses and blew me a kiss. She was on her cellphone and giggling away while putting the credit card and money in her purse. Meet her at the restaurant at 9:30.

You asked was I surprised? What else would you give your only-- well, one of your daughters. I said a thousand dollars could alter my lifestyle greatly. You laughed and said so little, such a small lifestyle. Not to me. Books, tuition, uniforms, car, house, they all cost enough.

A thousand could pay the bills for a month, and what I work for could help me get ahead.

You said, again with a laugh, work for me, one day a week, a thousand a day.

A thousand a day? Why only one day a week?

As if any child of mine could focus on anything for more than an hour, let alone more than a day. We'll start with one day at one thousand and work from there, my little late bloomer.

Guarantee me $1,000 a day for as many days a week as I can work and you have a deal. A deal? is this a business transaction or my father? Or one with the other?

Ok, Ok, deal. Still, a small life.

Thursday Thirteen, Right On Time.

Island time, that is. I am not missing the catamaran.

Thirteen things The Boy has bought me this year alone:

1. Our Big House.
2. A Wii.
3. Games for the Wii.
4. A digital camera.
5. Plane tickets for Hawaii.
6. New Shoes.
7. New Jeans.
8. Amazing Glaze Fun.
9. A million lovely dinners.
10. Ceiling Fans.
11. Air Conditioners.
12. Goliath Tomato Plants.
13. Oil Paints (for creative purposes only.)

Don't be jealous. Get a Boy!

Why did I ever leave the Shoe Store?

marginalize
mahr-juh-nl-ahyz

–verb (used with object), -ized, -iz·ing.
to place in a position of marginal importance, influence, or power:

I feel as though my talents and time are marginalized when my assistant criticizes my work ethic, asks me to get up and find someone in the office for her, or asks me how I am coming along on a project I assigned to her.

Possessions are Possessive

"I used to own a pair of them. I loved them. They were the sandy colored leather with a really thick, clear sole. They made me feel punk rock and comfy all at the same time."

I was dreaming again, in a mall I have been in hundreds of times. As I looked up at the Dr. Martin's Airwalk Collections lining the walls of a local shoe store, I had a smile on my face and a stupid longing. I started to miss my shoes. Shoes. Dumb, old, stinky shoes.

"Well... why did you get rid of them?"

"I lost them in the separation."

Shoes or offspring?

I lost so much stuff when I left The Ex, both during the first Exodus and the Second Fleeing. And then there were things he took from me. Thoughts he invaded, moments he muddled, feelings he confiscated.

Here's a small list of things I misplaced, he stole, or I gave up:

My Dr. Martin's
A Ring and two Necklace from Ex Boyfriends (Mr. Future Millionaire, Mr. Hamster and My Gay Ex Boyfriend, Respectively)
All of my personal journal entries circa 2001-2005. The only thing that remains is this blog and a few poems/ prose I wrote about Mr. Hamster
Tons of clothes
A good majority of my wedding presents- though few they were
My Lennox Hummingbird ( of course, the more beautiful one)
Most pictures of me and my Exes
Money. Lots of money. All the money I earned from January 2007- July 2007 and then some
My Jason Mraz Live CD
My Josh Turner CD
The Chevy. God, I loved that car. I know it wasn't working, but who knows, maybe Scott could fix it
My smiles and dreams from May 2006- July 2007
Time


I live everyday without these things. It's not like I can't function. It's also not like I would ever read my old journals, or wear the old jewelry, or listen to the cd's. It is the point. The point that we have items that carry meanings. That jewelry never belonged to him. It was a gift from someone who loved me for a girl I once was who pleased them. If I didn't own it, it should go to whomever gave it to me. It was ours and a symbol of us.

The cd's had songs that evoked feelings. I listened to that Jason Mraz cd tirelessly for about a year and lived through it. It was playing in the background when Mr. Future Millionaire broke my heart and told me about his feelings for someone other than me. I belted out You and I BOth and Doubling Back till I couldn't cry any more. I owned those notes, I knew those chords, I had that beat in my heart.

I drove back and forth to Pittsburgh in that Chevy. I wore a hole under the gas pedal with my heels. I was kissed in that passengers seat. I put that air freshner in the glove box. I kept those keys hidden in my jeans. That is, until he found and stole those, too. Another story. Another sad song.

I know. They are not me. I am not defined by what I possess, but by that which possesses me. I am defined by wonder and enlightenment. I am still essentially me, with or without props.

[Insert Applause Here]

wiTty 13.

Thirteen things I am going to do this summer:

1. Get all of the vaccinations required for School. Including but not limited to measles, mumps, rubella, typhoid fever, chicken pox, scurvy (Only for children of pirates,) and Mad Cow.

2. The pre-reading and comprehending of 156 chapters for school (throughout eighteen varying volumes and indexes.)

3. Finish planting every gal- dern plant or seed I have thus far purchased including Goliath Tomato plants, a tomato tree, pepper plants, marigold seeds, caladium bulbs, sunflower seeds, allysum seeds, sage and rosemary plants, and a money tree.

3a. I will talk to all of my plants in a loving and considerate tone to improve morale.

4. Housework Project A: Decide when to rip up and replace the flooring in the lower level of our big house.

5. Housework project B: Clean out the area upstairs that will be empty once we throw away the left over stove, cabinetry, flooring, and sink.

6. Lose some pounds. Just a few, and no, I still don't use scales. i will know I have lost pounds when the other ones ask me where they went.

7. Clean my desk. Yeah, it is so bad it made it on the list. I didn't say they were all fun, geez.

8. Increase my iron levels to 13.6 ppu so I can give double reds again in July.

9. Go to Amazing Glaze and finish making pottery for Aunties Number 1-5, cousins on both sides, and people I generally like.

9a. Finish the five paintings I have started now to also provide for presents for the family and friends.

10. Go to Hawaii. If it kills me. Or bankrupts me.

11. Adopt my personal mission statement and think of it everyday:

" I pledge to live a life that promotes a sense of peace, simplicity, and order. I will learn to apply myself to my duties and commitments in order to nuture and serve those around me."

12. I will read one or more book(s) for fun. And I am not that fun; this may include or be a re-read.

13. JUICE. As a verb; Hot, I know.

Your Calendar is just Early.

T 13, The Revival.

13 Things People say that can really get under your skin:

13. " Well, if you lost thirty pounds you would look great."
12. " It's not you, it's your perfume."
11. "I, for one, wouldn't drive that/ wear that/ go there."
10. "I have to see you all week at work, why would I come to your cocktail party?"
9. Nothing. Silence can be painful.
8. "Nice to see you finally showed up for work."
7. "You look tired."
6. "I think people who don't have children
Shouldn't say anything
Don't know anything
Can't know what it is like."
5. "Are you serious?"
4. "What is it that you do here again?"
3. "What is your name this week?"
2. "Must be nice."

And the Number One offensive piece of blabb I heard this week:

1. "Of course she wouldn't check her facts, she doesn't care about that."

To all of you lovely people who made this week so pleasant: Take a long walk off of a short, oil-covered pier.

Something so sweetly, so quietly me.

...about the way everything has worked out.

Have you ever had a dream that you were the you, say, ten years ago? But that you knew everything you had learned in the past decade, and were ready for everything.

Lately I have been having these dreams. (I know, always a dreamer, never a star...)

I thought about what I would change if I had a chance; then I thought about how that outcome would change the Now. The now that is every second the increasing store of yesterdays and last weeks and decades ago. I thought about how I would face the Mr. Hamsters and Mr. Future Millionaires the Mr. L of ten years ago.

The bratty, the snarky, the moody, the weird faded and I thought I would face them with maturity and dignity. I thought I would tell them all that they did appreciate me and that I didn't appreciate that. I thought I would value myself more highly and carry my self with more grace and avoid the dis-. I planned to go back in the moment and remember it and savor the good while ending the bad miles short of what it was. And is.

I thought about the Misses and thought I would indulge them. Because we grew up and out too fast. Because weekends are hard to come by now. Because they always helped, even if what they did or said hurt. Misses are so oft' neglected.

Then, Scott told me all of my lofty dreams are impossible. He seems to think without everything, I would have never found him. Maybe he forgets that what is meant to be will be. Or maybe I forget that.

Maybe this is a stream and none of us can swim. Maybe we just float along, silently or noisily, with the current or drowning, with bumps and bruises or cleanly.

All that I am is the sum of all I have been. Every second, every dream I drop in my sleep, every memory I store in my mind, every song I keep and fact I forget, is a collage of an identity. I remember the things I have gone through, therefore I can prove my existence and secure my future. This thing I call me is just a total of one long equation, divisible by chapters, a multiple of smaller Me- like images, the addition of other influences, lovers, and moments, the subtraction of a few souls from the greater World Identity and there you have her.

Ladies and Gentlemen, there you have me. A definite identity, with an infinity of changes to come.

Healthcare Reform

This is a small diversion from my usual posts, but I had to write this paper, I might as well share it with you. It is a quick run down on how I feel about Healthcare reform. I should have included more research and I could write five more papers about different issues under the main umbrella, but another time, another space. For now, here it is:



President Obama has called for the nation to begin reforming our current healthcare systems. In a nation built on free enterprise and fueled by American dollars, earned mostly in service- based industries, healthcare companies have been allowed free reign. Tax breaks are given to companies who insure their employs, huge, privately owned healthcare companies funnel their money into research aimed to cut costs and increase profit margins- money that is largely seen as charitable contributions to fund research grants.

The primary responsibility of insurance and insurance companies is to cover unexpected events and costs- we pay into escrow, the provider makes a profit directly from the premium and the rest is made in the form of interest from moderate investments. Americans payout for services we have yet to receive, and may never need, in order to protect us should we need procedures and medication we could not otherwise afford. Instead of following basic and sustainable business plans, insurance companies who provide baseline healthcare for premium prices have developed impossible scenarios to avoid paying fairly for the medicine and procedures their clients need. Catchphrases like “pre-existing condition” have been coined specifically to save companies money and leave citizens who consistently pay their share for healthcare to foot exorbitant medical bills- bills their insurer had guaranteed to cover when they signed up as healthy, often times young workers.

Healthcare companies attempted to gamble in an unstable market by placing their investments in risky endeavors- investments made in a market built on sub-prime mortgages and the ever-increasing debt-to-income ratio of an entire nation. The healthcare industry as a whole lost sight of the basic goals of providing viable and complete insurance to those who pay a fair price, and compromised the health of a nation of trusting policy holders for the sake of free enterprise and undeserved, inflated earnings.
In order to make up for their irresponsibility, companies have resorted to the most basic and primal survival instincts- stealing from the very customers they vowed to protect in sickness and in “un” health. Premiums have become as expensive as the care itself, doubling in the last decade (Singer.)

Peter Singer reintroduces the idea that healthcare should be rationed; suggesting that price already dictates who benefits from a ration system. According to Singer, rationing is based on the fact that healthcare is a limited resource and regulated by economic shifts and trends. Singer says this is not enough, that we must have a government implemented proactive agency that will volley for the rights of a nation of patients. Singer argues that we spend a third of what we earn as a nation on healthcare, while other industrialized nations spend far less for better care. It is difficult to see the justification in this view when our nation has the highest life expectancy, and arguable the highest overall quality of life. How can Singer justify the belief that nations with government run healthcare give their citizens better or even equal care without someone having to pay for it?

The question insurance providers, patients and politicians alike should be asking is not “How can we help the healthcare industry?” or “How can the government ration healthcare?” It is much bigger than digging the industry out of its own hole or changing the way people attain access to healthcare. The question is how do we review the system and require responsible business practices from those who promise a service and are more than adequately compensated? How do we regulate an entire industry that was for so long focused on making money, instead of serving their customers?

What is our answer from Washington? How does the government plan to make health insurance companies provide the healthcare they promise at rates that nearly every citizen can afford? We have been promised the public healthcare buy-in in order to answer the needs of the millions of uninsured Americans. Politicians are asking Americans to disregard the poor state the healthcare industry is in and to be willing to pay the same amount they are already paying for healthcare that would be regulated by the government. How can the answer possibly include adding a middleman, namely a government that owes more than 11 trillion dollars to other countries and it’s very own citizens?

Politicians who support the healthcare reforms being passed in Senate have publicized the benefits our society would garner from the changes they deem necessary. “Healthcare for all, run by Washington” is what we are being promised. Who really wants to trust their health to a bureaucratic government that is difficult if not impossible to navigate now? The government already offers subsidized healthcare in the form of Medicare and Medicaid, organizations that are notorious for their unwillingness to pay for adequate care for their patients.

Take a closer look at another well-known government run healthcare office- the Veteran’s Administrations hospitals across the country- hospitals that are notorious for their out-of-date equipment and procedures and their underpaid and under qualified staff. Ask any Veteran and they will tell you war stories from the local VA rather than the front line. In recent years, Walter Reed Army Medical Center has gained an infamous reputation for one of the worst medical facilities of its kind, stories about endless bureaucratic regimens in order to obtain basic healthcare, amputees waiting months or years for outpatient therapy, patients counseling each other when access to qualified medical personnel is denied or limited, and those recovering from illness and injury in dilapidated buildings with few necessities, let alone any comforts. (Priest & Hull, 2007) Brave men who have served this country are unable to attain healthcare adequate healthcare at a rate they can afford when the medical decisions are left up to Washington, what, then, is in store for a whole nation of patients?

The answer to the healthcare question does not lie in handing the reigns over to the government. The answer is not represented by using government funds to bail out the insurance companies so they can once again pillage the defenseless public. The answer is not in reform, it comes in the form or review.

The goals for Washington should be to review the healthcare system, find the flaws, and protect Americans. If the industry can remember what their primary goal is, to provide for the insured at the highest level of care available for their premium, and be less concerned with how much money their companies can make by mismanaging funds earned when customers pay into their policies and seeking tax breaks and loop holes in policies, then a balance can be restored, putting the patients needs before the needs of the insurance company.

Government agencies should be created in order to investigate insurance company’s investment practices. Insurance companies should only be allowed to make solid and protected investments for moderate returns. The liquid assets of an insurance company should always be at the value or higher than the value of the premium care available to their insured at any given time. Regulating the insurance companies in order to protect the customer’s benefits and assure Americans that insurance companies are operating at the best of their ability to provide those benefits is the job of our government. Politicians in Washington who earned political science degrees assuming the responsibility of rationing healthcare, forcing the consumer to buy insurance from a government- run agency that knows nothing or next to nothing about providing healthcare, is not an adequate solution.

Meant for Someone Else

This is something I was writing to the Ex, and then my better judgement got ahold of me and I decided to give it to you. If I send it to him, it will just perpetuate communications. But I knew you would understand.

Ugh. Every time I get a bill I cringe. I keep thinking (like an idiot) that one day you will man up and pay off things that you owe. You know, like the apartment that you trashed and ditched, the Jeep, the cell phone etc... It's like you hurt me all over again every time I get a bill. But I guess that is your plan. I don't know why I am even writing this, I know you don't care.

I just keep having these nightmares of being buried alive by your negativity. I hate everything you are and were to me. And I hate the monthly reminders of you. I can't wait to be divorced, but I know even that won't erase all of the pain. And I know even if the court tells you to, you won't repay your debts. Even if they put you in jail, I know you won't care.

Heck, all you had to do to keep the Jeep was make the payments, and you couldn't even do that. I don't mean to heckle you, I just want this to be over, and I want you to recognize, at some point, your mistakes and (literally and figuratively) pay for them. But why should you? You don't care and everyone in your life allows you to behave in this reckless and unfeeling way.

I guess I just can't believe I fell for it all. For your lies and your deceit. For you pain and your hurt. What was I thinking?

DR, how much of this is my fault.

"I can't believe you are shoving this down my throat like this, Benny," He huffed at her in disbelief. The one thing that always got Benny was the truth in his eyes when he was angry. She never saw truth any other way in him. Int his instance, his soul was laid bare. He was more than angry.

"I can't believe you think that saying that will change my mind. Shoving or not, this has to happen." She was cool. Calm. Collected. She thought. She thought she appeared so on the outside, though she couldn't be sure. Her feelings rose by the moment, the heat of her anger, distrust, and all the years of worry was quickly overpowering her.

"I don't want this-"

"I didn't want you to beat me, or steal my soul, or force your interest in prostitutes and drugs into my life, but you did. And so hear we are," He began, and she finished, for once changing the balance of power in a conversation, and maybe in the whole world.

There was much more said, but not much more heard.

The Short and Sweet of it.

"Look at it Young."

"I know, Benny. She's a beaut."

"It's not a she, it's a He. Definatly. He is strong and hardy and big and manly."

"Well, if he makes you happy, Benny."

"He does."

She walked towards Him with a smile on her face and for the first time loved a man other than Young.

That "He" was the home she would build her life on, the foundation Benny and Young would cherish, the cornerstone of all that was good- every moment, every dream, every wish, every birth and every death centered here for the rest of their lives.

But all Benny and Young could see was now and the very near future. They sat on the porch and dreamt of the rest of truth and peace here, on Taylor Road.

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