Life is full of paradoxes. Today, I really needed a hug, I wanted a hug but I was so upset, aggravated, and irritated, I didn’t want anyone to touch me. It reminds me of a discussion I had with my buddy Kevin, wherein he teased me by responding, “Touch me, don’t touch me, touch me, don’t touch me.” Guess you had to be there. You would laugh if you knew the whole story.
What started this downward slide into my mini-breakdown were the burn marks all over my brand new chair, which is a very, very light tan. I mean, burn marks all over the left arm of the chair, and the inside of the arm of the chair, big black marks. After contacting my contractor and finding out THEY discovered said black marks yet neglected to tell me about them, then INSINUATED that I had caused such black marks, only served to infuriate me further.
After more of an investigation (by me), I found that the black marks smelled of cleanser and after turning the back cushion around found another mark and then after flipping the bottom cushion, found even more black marks. Let’s just say burns, because they were burns, not soot or dust or grease, it had been burned. And then they tried to cover it up.
And then there were the scrape marks on the kitchen floor, which I had been told was rip-proof, tear-proof, and along with cockroaches, would survive an atomic bomb. I may have a bathroom but no towel rack, no toilet paper holder, no shower curtain rod, and the drain is gold and the other fixtures are silver…
The shelf above the washer and dryer was installed for a man who is 6’4″, I’m 5’3 and 1/2″.
Nate’s room and closet still smell like SMOKE…
A half of a box of hardwood flooring has disappeared…
Which leads me to this observation…
Every now and again, I try to debunk astrology. I do so because it’s fun to try and be someone else for a while and ignore my natural instincts. Which follows a dependable pattern similar to trying not to breath, passing out, and nature taking over.
I’m cusp born, not just once, but twice. My Sun sign is what I lovingly call a Scorpittarius, although I most strongly identify with the Scorpio and most astrologists place me as a Scorpio with strong Sagittarian tendencies. I was also born on the cusp in my Ascending Sign or Rising Sign of Pisces and Aries. My Moon sign is Virgo.
Supposedly, the Rising sign is the face you show the world. The Sun sign is your individuality. The Moon sign represents how you best express your emotions. Based on this, if you were to meet me you would see me as intelligent, intuitive, psychic, perhaps somewhat dreamy, compassionate, empathetic, unselfish, and someone that other people will seek out when in need. I would be very analytical, very much about the facts and figures, the details, all about the details.
Also someone who is very resourceful, yet having an innate ability to find trouble, intense, passionate, secretive, strong willed, mysterious, sexually charged, loyal, generous, ambitious, self-reliant, outspoken, frank, a gypsy, forgiving, and not so forgiving. I can be your best good friend but insult me and I will dog you until the day you die. Fuck with me, I fuck back, harder. I may take your shit but I won’t forget and when I get to a point, its over. I’m done.
Like today. I was done and I let them know it. Luckily for them, they gave me almost six hours to calm down (or in my case, circle the wagons, get my facts set up, and prepare for a swift, deadly attack). At the peak of my rage, which is exactly what it was, I was on the phone with T-Bird and saw myself in the mirror. Oy. I scared myself. I really do speak with my eyes. Since there was fire shooting out of them, I heard that loud and clear.
I try like hell to suppress that nasty, vindictive, hateful, venomous stinger (tongue) of mine. I much prefer the sexually charged, mysterious, intuitive, empathetic, generous nature of my personality. Plus, that nasty, vindictive part of me is quite out of control. I mean, you really have to fuck with me hard to get me to that point but once I’m there, I’m there.
I felt like Gollum and Smeagle. Literally, trying to talk myself out of violence and releasing that insanely sharp, truth telling, bare it all, tell it like it is with conviction, tongue of mine. I remind myself to treat people as I would want to be treated, that you get more flies with honey than with vinegar, blah, blah, blah, then the stinger slaps the inner child and says in a menacing, demonic voice, “STOP BEING A FUCKING DOORMAT!”
See, I try to debunk all of that astrology shit and someone has to go and fuck it up.
However, I was able to temper my considerable temper and present myself in much more calm and rational, yet don’t fuck with me, manner. Upon leaving, the supervisor told me that he would have Ron to work on the floor, the bathroom, and Nate’s bedroom, but it would be Monday before the owner would be back to discuss what was going to be done about the chair.
I said, “Don’t forget, Mr. Supervisor. . . because I won’t.”
“Oh, I know you won’t.”
My stinger and I waved good-bye. So, have ya’ll hugged your scorpion today?