As feared, kitten number three was dead when I got home last night. It was the other tabby, so we are now down to two. Nate has named the grey one, MJ, for Mongoya Jr., although they do not resemble one another at all. The other one has yet to be named. For now, its just “the tabby.”
I’m still applying for jobs. I applied for one at the Fed. Pub. Defender’s office as a legal secretary. I would love to have that job. It doesn’t close until the 19th, which is certainly a long time to wait but I hope it will be worth it. Additionally, one of the lawyers here is putting in a good word for me.
The Newsweek article that been buzzed about on and off blogs. I’m deeply concerned about this article and if the allegations set forth within are true, we have a problem. I’m not an idiot. I understand that we are at war.
Yet, the notion that simply because we are at war means the Constitution doesn’t matter, nor the Geneva Convention, and we can simply re-write the basis of our country to fit the needs of a few is dangerous. If you believe that a president should be given “near-total authority over the prosecution of suspected terrorists” and as Mr. Yoo believes “that power is for the president to use as he sees fit in a time of war,” then I strongly urge you to read the meaning of “representative democracy,” “republic,” “oligarchy,” and especially “totalitarian dictatorship.”
See, we believe that because we’re citizens of the United States of America that it can’t happen here. You know, we can’t be taken over. Tell that to Chile, whose elected government was overtaken by Pinochet in 1973.
We’re a democracy, it can’t happen here. Really? When you move the power from the people, or in the case of America, from the people elected to represent the people, to the hands of few or one, you are breaking down the democracy and heading into dangerous, dangerous territory. I’m talking Hitler/Mussolini territory.
I understand that as our world changes, as the threats to our lives change, so must we. But there must also be a point where someone says, “STOP!” There must be a point where we tell our government it must stop infringing upon the rights of its citizens, it must stop infringing upon the rights guaranteed under International Law, it must stop setting a bad example.
There must be a line drawn between national security and citizen’s rights, otherwise, we are not America and we have not learned from our mistakes and the mistakes of other countries. Our government is supposed to be a series of checks and balances. Where are they? They’re being circumvented, they’re being ignored, they’re being “justified . . . by invoking a post-9/11 congressional resolution authorizing the use of force against global terror.” (How is eavesdropping considered “use of force?”)
Read the article. Draw your own conclusions. Just don’t think it can’t happen here.
It was lovely chatting with you last night. As promised, when I went to take my shower, I fantasized about you. I could feel my muscles relaxing as the hot water washed over me, and I imagined it was your hands. So yes, as I stood in the shower, sans pulsating shower head (or any head for that matter), I thought of you.
But see, there’s this hole in my shower curtain. Really, it’s a rip. I’m not sure how it happened but everyday it seems to grow larger and while it still keeps the water in, it affords little privacy. So, whilst imagining all the dirty things we could do in that shower (and lucky my hands were merely smoothing the suds from my freshly washed hair) . . .
A knife fashioned from styrofoam is thrust through the rip in the curtain and I hear a version of the “Pyscho” shower scene music. Then, the gleeful cackling of a nine year old. I’m kinda glad you weren’t there. We really have no shame. Of course, once I stopped laughing, it had sort of killed the mood. Maybe next time.
Well, we’ve lost the black kitten and the black/white kitten (sorry Cybele). I was pretty sure the black one wasn’t going to make it anyway. It never did breath right after birth and it was weak.
As for the black/white, not sure. She may have lain on it, but like the black one, it wasn’t as strong as the others. One of the tabbies is not looking so good either. The grey one and the other tabby are stronger, heavier, and move around more, oh yeah, and squawk more when you pick them up. Lola has allowed herself to be petted more now than she has her entire life. She was born April 6, 2004, so that’s a long time. I don’t expect the other tabby to make it.
Lola’s brother was Mongoya, or Goya and was her polar opposite. I blogged about Goya here.
Nate named Ireland and Mongoya because he was studying foreign countries in Geography. Mongoya was supposed to be Mongolia. Ha!
I’m looking forward to getting a new job for several reasons but one specifically is I’ll have enough money to get Ireland and Lola fixed. Then all my cats will be fixed up, no more kittens to mourn.
Frankly, I’ve been looking ahead to my future quite a bit. I mean, long-term future. No matter how much I love Nate, I know he’s growing up and before I know it, he’ll be going to college. I want him to be able to go anywhere he wants regardless of price or distance. As for me, I want to start traveling again, even with Nate and sat down to make a list of fascinating places I want to visit. I get my ideas from the Travel Channel, especially “Haunted Places.”
I want to visit Arizona, New Mexico, Montana, Colorado, and several other places I’ve already been, plus the Northeast (Mass., Maine etc.) And of course the foreign travels, Tibet, China, England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland, Italy, Poland, Czech Republic, and other Slavik realms.
I also told T-Bird last night, any place that puts me as far away from Jeff as possible. I was reading a true crime novel last night and the killer reminded me so much of Jeff it was frightening (Malignant Narcissistic Personality). He’s not as bad as that guy but was close enough to make me extremely wary. Not that I wasn’t already. Trust me.
Although its a ways in the future and I still have everyday things to think about, its worth making plans for.
Lola decided that today would be a good day to add more. Baby Number 1 – Michael (or Michaela), named after my German brother whose birthday is today! Number two is on its way very soon!
Yesterday was a very frustrating day. First, I got Nate out the door in plenty of time for school, even arriving a bit early. Check. Traffic was light and moving despite snowy skies. Check. Arrive at parking garage at 8:30 on the nose. Check.
Wait. I FORGOT T-BIRD!!! Holy shit!! Holy shit and shinola!! PANIC! PANIC!! Run to the office, attempt to call, get her ex at his job, no way to reach her, run back to car, drive back within a mile of home, pick-up seething T-Bird, break sound barrier on way to her job about a mile from mine. T-Bird works for an old high school classmate of mine who personifies the word “bitch.” Go on, go look in your dictionaries, because her picture will be right there. She makes T-Bird and I look, well, relatively docile. Frightening, isn’t it?
I drive back to the parking garage, park, get out, immediately have to walk to my job interview. It is snowing huge flakes and although its only a few blocks, I’m pretty wet by the time I get there because, naturally, I couldn’t find my umbrella. After testing and discussions, I get back to the office at 11:45.
Receive phone call from Jeff saying Nate’s sister’s mom has been in a car accident and is going to same hospital T-Bird works at. Call T-Bird, pass word. (She’s okay, just banged up.)
Receive phone call from school at about 1:30 letting me know Nate is tired and had a bad afternoon. Of course he’s tired, he’s sleep schedule is off! Duh! Leave at 2:30 to pick up Nate from school. Bridges and overpasses are snow covered and slick. Ugh.
Drop Nate off, have to look at Jeff. They leave to pick up Danlel, Nate’s sister. (That’s my nickname for her.) Go back to work.
Leave work, go to pick up T-Bird. Forget she works until 5:30, circle, circle, circle, circle. . . see someone leave a parking spot, get cut off, circle, circle, circle, circle . . . no way to call Jeff and tell him I’ll be late. Finally get parking spot, go in, get T-Bird, leave.
Get to Jeff’s. He wants to know what’s wrong. Frustrating day, just want to go home. Offers to keep Nate, which I decline.
Nate and I go home. We spend evening together, Nate does his homework without much fuss. Does a good job. We go to bed early. Phone rings. Jeff. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, circle, circle, circle . . .
Wake up, repeat but remember to pick-up T-Bird. Rehash previous day. As we’re driving down the road, a black cat crosses our path. We snort and laugh and say “fuck” a lot. Its going to be a good day.
Nate had a sleep deprived EEG this morning. *Yawn* I’m still recovering. I did get a call about a resume I submitted. Trouble is, if you are delinquent on anything on your credit report, you get automatically vetoed. I almost choked myself not laughing at that one. The lady still encouraged me to check my report and see what I could fix relatively easy. Ha. Yeah.
I have an interview tomorrow morning with a local temp agency a friend of mine works for. We’ll see how that goes.
I knew I was in serious trouble this morning following Nate’s test when I started having romantic feelings toward his neurologist, just by hearing his voice through the door. One should not make important romantic decisions while under the influence of drugs, alcohol, emotional distress, or sleep deprivation.
I got paid today and I’m broke. I hate it when that happens.
Okay, Hoss brought up a good point in my comments on “Unrequited Response.” Basically stating that he trusted me and therefore was believing what I wrote. That takes us all back to we chose what we write and not always what we write may be the whole truth, if there is such a thing. I did write a huge back story to my relationship with Jeff. That can summed up by responding to Julie’s comment following, “Unrequited.”
Its something we’ve all probably said or thought at a time – There must have been something that drew you too him, so he couldn’t have been that bad. I’m not sure that gives him or me or both of us the benefit of the doubt. The truth is, there was something that drew me to him. He was an alcoholic and as a co-dependent, I was the moth, he was the flame.
Did Jeff truly have any redeeming qualities once I truly got to know him? No. Did I stay with him anyway? Yes. Why? Because I was as sick in the head as he is. That’s just the truth. I take that back. He did have a redeeming quality. He was a good policeman. I rode with the PD for 16 weeks, with a multitude of policeman, younger and older, male and female, and hands down, Jeff was just a better policeman. First, he actually worked. Second, he was very intuitive. He had that bad guy sixth sense that made he ask the right questions, pull the right people over, search the right areas etc. I don’t know how else to explain it.
So, yeah, he had a redeeming quality.
I don’t struggle as much with co-dependency as I used to, but that doesn’t mean that I’m “cured.” I have to remain vigilant and do inventory just like an alcoholic. Allowing myself to slip back into old habits is like an alcoholic saying, “Just one drink.”
Jeff has been calling me and calling me and calling me. He’s been calling me because his girlfriend dumped him so now he wants to know why we broke up, and flatter me with words which are as hollow as that dead tree in my yard and try like hell to show he’s this deep, philosophical thinker, and wonders why I’ve never married, and why I’m not happy.
What? Who the fuck said I’m not happy? Once again, having to explain, that unlike HIM, I’m perfectly happy being by MYSELF!! See, he wants me to believe that I’m unhappy and he wants me to believe that I really DO NEED someone in my life (him). News flash. No, I don’t. He can’t fathom that. He cannot fathom that I go for MONTHS without a partner. Hell, I’ve gone YEARS.
He cannot fathom that my life is really okay, without the benefit of a partner or marriage or a live-in. Sure, I’d like to have a different job, and sell more beadwork, and have something published I’ve written, but overall, I’m happy. I’m happy because I continue to move forward with my goals. Having a fulfilling relationship is icing, not the fucking cake.
And no, there’s no point in trying to tell him anything. Why? Because I’m not responsible for him or his feelings. You can’t change people, they have to want to change. Change comes from within. Demons must be wrestled, truths must be faced, fearless inventory must be undertaken, the Higher Power must be called upon. And I’m not responsible for making sure he gets there. I’m not even getting close to that slippery slope.
Thanks for all of your comments on the last post. I’ve written more back story but. . . I’d rather move on the time being. To beading, of course. I got the opportunity to work with my new Aiko beads. I’m actually not entirely crazy about them. Uniformity – top notch, but they are just a wee bit bigger than my Delicas and that does, for some reason, bothers me. However, decide for yourself.
At first I named this piece “Lava,” then I wasn’t sure it really exemplified the work. It wasn’t until I was taking photographs of it that I determined the perfect name for it.
*NOTE* I wanted to ask for prayers for the two WV miners at the Mellville – Alma 1 mine. Can you imagine with Sago so fresh in our minds what those 21 miners (the two who are missing and the 19 who escaped) thought as the fire broke out? Let’s hope we have a better outcome and our miners come home safe.
From my letter to AZ dated January 19, 2006:
He’s really lucky, ya know? He asked for answers, I gave him answers. He dug around and stirred up shit that was better left alone. He dug up shit I had left in the past where it belonged. I don’t remember the good, I don’t dwell on the bad, it was what it was, it is what it is. As you and I discussed, I wouldn’t change it. Change one thing, you risk changing it all, not knowing whether the change would be for the better. It doesn’t mean I want to rehash it or remember it or even accept the crushing weight of someone else’s love on my shoulders.
When I searched the far reaches of what I refer to as “my heart,” which is not really the pulsing organ in the center of our chest that pumps blood, but something beyond physical, I found, just nothing. Nothing. Not love, not hate, not disappointment, just nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
I resent anyone who digs around in my pain. Making me remember it, making me relive it, serves no purpose TO ME at this point. I lived it. I dealt with it. I left it. Maybe he needed closure, maybe he needed answers, maybe he needed to say what he said, but it means nothing. Sometimes, you must go on without answers. I’m well aware of the situation we were in. I lived it too.
He still looks at it so very black and white. White in his corner. “What if you had everything you ever wanted right in the palm of your hand, would you leave Nate for it?”
That says it all right there. No, you dumb shit. But that’s black and white. Only someone with your mentality would believe you have to make such sacrifices in this day and age. Did your wife leaving 17 months after Nate was born take away your daughter? No, it didn’t. You chose to stay out of her life, just like you chose to stay out of Nate’s. See, its always been an option, A FUCKING OPTION, whether or not YOU want to stick around yet you turn it around and blame it on everything and everyone else.
I don’t care how much you whine and fucking cry asshole, you and your ex-wife separated no less than 15 times between the time we met and the time Nate was born. I KNOW, KNOW that you turned down opportunities to spend time with your daughter and then you whined about how she might be taken away from you. What the fuck ever.
Be careful where you stir your shit.
Be careful what you want to know.
It may be worth it to you.
It may not be worth to the person listening to the same bullshit they’ve heard before.
It may not be worth it to them to have to re-open old wounds.
It may not be worth it to them to feel compelled to tell you how much you hurt them. Not everyone delights in bringing up old hurts and suffocating other people with them.
Not everyone wants to go through that, just to hear, “I can’t change it,” and then the excuses that trip all over themselves. Well, that’s fucking obvious dickweed.
I didn’t ask for him to apologize to me for what happened. I’ve never held his feet to the fire and felt I was entitled to it. It happened. We both did and said things we shouldn’t have. I let him go. I let it go. He won’t. I’m tired of shit I did anywhere from 10 years ago to 10 days ago being thrown in my face. Rehashed and hashed and hashed and hashed. I’m so tired of it.
I don’t have to have these conversations anymore. That’s right. I don’t have to. Once it moved from Nate to our old relationship, I should have shut the door on it. It turns into the same shit every time. Next time, I’m shutting the door.
“I still love you,” he said, “You changed something in me the day you ran your foot up my leg, the first time I saw you, the first time I talked to you even.”
He goes on and on.
“I know I wasn’t there when Nate was born. I know I called you and told you I wished you would have that damn baby so you would stop bitching. . .”
I’m sitting on the floor of my old trailer, talking to my sister, when the phone beeps and I click over. Its Jeff. Before long, I am in tears and he tells me, “I just wish you’d have that damn baby!” I answer, “You’re about to get your wish.” “Why?” He asks. “Because I’m in labor. Are you going to be there?” “I don’t know.”
“And you go to the hospital alone and I’m not there.”
Twenty-one and a half hours later, T-Bird is with me, my kneecaps are kissing my ears, and I realize I’ve put him out of my mind. It no longer matters whether he is there or not, it only matters that my son is being born and he’s crying and healthy. Ten hours later, something wakes me. Jeff is there, holding Nate for the first time.
“I know you think I wasn’t there. I know you think I wasn’t really a father to Nate after he was born, but I was still his father. You talked about walking up and down the hill because Nate wouldn’t stop crying and I wasn’t there to help you.”
Nate has been crying for hours it seems and he won’t stop. My breasts are flat he has nursed so much. Jeff is in Baltimore on vacation. Our conversation is less than two minutes. I’m exhausted and still weak from hemorrhaging and Nate won’t stop crying.
I had read somewhere that sometimes a change of scenery will soothe them. My stitches haven’t completely dissolved but I pick him up and we go outside and I walk him up and down the hill. He stops crying and he’s curious to the big world around him. I go as far as I can until I have to go back. When we get to the door, he starts crying again, but I have to sit down. So we cry together.
“I don’t understand why you left me.”
Every moment from our relationship fast-forwards through my mind.
“You want to know? I’ll tell you. I never felt safe or secure with you. I loved you so much, but you played with that emotion. Anytime I did start feeling safe, you jerked the rug out from underneath me. If I did anything you didn’t like, you told me you couldn’t or wouldn’t love me anymore, you wouldn’t see me anymore. You kept me off-balance and anxious. You did the same thing to me that you did to Nate by saying, “I don’t know if I want to be your dad anymore.”
You’re not doing that to Nate. You did it to me, you turned your back on me, you manipulated me through my love for you. Your love was not just conditional, it was controlling. What happened between us, well it happened and no, neither of us can back it up, neither of us can change it, and I wouldn’t even if I could, but you’re not treating Nate like you treated me. You’re not going to keep him off-balance and anxious.”
“You know I would never abandon Nate. I would never stop being his Dad.”
“But does he know that, Jeff?”
Does he know it in his heart? Is he secure that you will love him no matter what?
“I’m totally sober and I just went on about how I feel about you.”
I look inside, searching and seeking, digging, and find nothing.