You Know You’re Desperate

December 11, 2008 at 8:40 pm (AZ, Black Stone Cherry, Nate, T-Bird, Work)

when you eat a piece of pecan pie leftover from Thanksgiving. It wasn’t me. Well, maybe it was.

‘Tis the season for upgrades. Everytime I log into my e-mail or WordPress someone has changed something to make it new-fangled and supposedly better.

I’m finished with Nate’s and my Dad’s Yule shopping, haven’t got jackshit for anyone else. I’m broke.

Nate is grounded until Christmas Eve. When I picked him up from school yesterday he said, “I would just like to make my Last Will and Testament.” He bequethed his video games to Cam, his Legos to Buddy (ETW’s son), and anything left to T-Bird’s son. I’m pleased to report Nate is still alive, although he may die of boredom before December 24th.  Sometimes you just have to put the fear of Mom into them.

Things with Jace are fine and dandy.

Troy is probably going to be getting a divorce in the New Year.

T-Bird and I have been talking. Nate and I went down on Thanksgiving and we had a really nice time.

I’m working the super double shift on Saturday – 8:30 a.m. to close.  Things were “tense” today. The GM is ticked off. I only got half a story, I’m sure the rest will come out sooner or later.

Today is AZ’s birthday. He’s still older than I am. Today is also John Fred’s birthday.  He’s still younger than I am.

I took Jirachi, Little Man, to the vet on my day off. He got his ears cleaned, bad ear mites, and a wormer, because he has round worms, and some viral inhibitor for his continously snotty nose that won’t respond to antibiotics. 

Heed my warning, keep thy childrens contained in a restaurant or leave them the fuck home. As hyper as Nate was/is as a child, I always kept him in a high chair or otherwise contained in the booth in a restaurant. It is very difficult to lift a 50 lb. tray under normal circumstances, much less while worrying about whether you’re going to trip over the 2 year old hiding underneath it.  Frankly, I don’t think a three hour adult Christmas party is the place for a 2 year old.

A party of 17 is difficult enough without the 2 year old, who was totally cute, just way in the way today. It came to my attention that when the dad left the room with him that he let him run amok for my co-workers to deal with as well. Its just flat fucking dangerous.

Plus, if you’re going to subject me to four courses, special menu, packages, wrapping paper, and other debris blocking my way, extra well done beef, your long winded boss, and a 2 year old, you could at least tip worth a shit, which you didn’t.

Thank the Goddess for wine and other alcoholic beverages.

And thank you sweet baby Jeebus for the awesome sex I had last night so that I could face the day.

Amen.

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Clueless

September 22, 2008 at 9:06 pm (Alice in Chains, AZ, Black Stone Cherry, Friends, My Travels)

Last night, my good bud, Beanie and I went to one of my favorite haunts, The Point. I think she’d had a bit to drink or wasn’t paying attention or both, because it took her about 45 minutes of driving in the dark on a two lane highway before she asked, “Dude, where are we?”  Clueless was she.

I kind of didn’t tell her where we were going, just asked if she wanted to take a drive.  I distracted her by listening to Black Stone Cherry’s new CD and telling her twice why I love Alice and Jerry and why AZ is still stuck in my crawl. Then I spent some time laughing at her as she told me how creepy The Point is, which I already know. Except, well, The Point is not so creepy for me anymore. I’m pretty convinced that The Point sits on converging lines of energy and the reason I am drawn there is due to that energy.

I love the riverfront there. I know I’ve been there so many times and have never taken pictures. Maybe someday. I can see that they are working on the murals again and the 7th annual Mothman Festival was this weekend, which I missed… but I much prefer The Point to myself.

Happened to talk to AZ while I was out there. Beanie was witness to the ultimate humiliation of hating someone and loving them all at the same time. I think somewhere in the rant afterwards that I, or we, came to the conclusion that he’s a big pussy and completely and utterly, fucking, clueless. CLUE. LESS.

I said, “Well, you and the wife have almost been married a year… how’s that workin’ for ya?”

He said, “Its had its moments. We were actually talking about that the other day and she said, ‘I didn’t think we’d make it a year’ and I said, ‘Me either, but there’s still time.'” See, clueless. I mean, if I’m going to go through all of this turmoil, then at least put your back into it! Dumbass.

Ya’ll are so right. I need someone with a little bit more of a clue! What a waste!

I think Jefferson Airplane said it best:

When the truth is found to be lies
and all the joy within you dies
don’t you want somebody to love
don’t you need somebody to love
wouldn’t you love somebody to love
you better find somebody to love

And they’d better not be fucking clueless.

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The Bitter End

September 21, 2008 at 8:15 pm (Alice in Chains, AZ, Black Stone Cherry, Crazy Shit, Music, T-Bird, Work)

Thank you for all of your comments and support. I’ll not try to kid myself nor any of my readers about my state of mind right now, which has some to do with not going to Arizona but has more to do with my life in general.

They say like draws like, so I try to keep a positive attitude and regularly give myself pep talks. It wasn’t lost on me that I was where I was supposed to be, and that wasn’t in Arizona, but catering a party for 100 people and making enough money to buy Nate’s medicine this week and have some left for cat litter, gas, and eye makeup remover. Although the reason for being here instead of there has not yet revealed itself, unless the real reason is that the Universe is truly trying to make me as fucking miserable as possible before revealing this “big thing.”

For some reason, my thoughts have been on AZ, not the state, but the person, a lot this morning and afternoon. Perhaps the reason being that his first wedding anniversary approaches and with it, a lot of baggage I wish I could just stop, drop, and roll on. A part of me wonders if I should tell him how I feel and have felt for a long time. Just get it over with and have my say. I’m not sure what that will accomplish. However, one of the new Black Stone Cherry songs covers my feelings on this subject. Its from the song “The Bitter End” –

I will never forget
All the things you said
I never heard you say you’re sorry
I hate you for leavin’ me dead

I did see T-Bird at her son’s birthday party where I was inundated with negativity and a list of her ongoing medical problems, and the inevitable embarassment of half the people in our group using some of the seven bad words in front of other families in a packed house of the kid’s restaurant with the rat for an icon. Oy vey. Have you ever been in a situation where you’ve been away from someone or something for a while, and then you’re around it again, and realize how much you don’t miss it? Kind of how I felt last summer when I went back to being a paralegal again for two days and I was ready to have my head examined?

I’m not going to lie and say I can’t use all of the seven bad words in one coherent sentence, nor am I going to lie and say I haven’t, however, when in a crowded, kid-friendly environment, I’ve been known to watch my mouth. Some people, including T-Bird, her family, and some of her friends, obviously don’t give a shit and they’re not quiet about it.  So, that situation is still squating there like a toad.

My friend’s relationship with the Greek Adonis is progressing. Guess he decided the “male code” did not apply (and it doesn’t). I’m pretty surprised at how much hearing her talk about it is bothering me. I guess a year of noticing all of his fine qualities, like his manners and kindness, in addition to his good looks, hasn’t really gotten me anywhere. My reciprocation of his manners and kindess didn’t get me anywhere either. That’s a bitter pill to swallow.

I’m sure I’ll have a dose of bitterness tomorrow also over one of my co-workers. I have a great deal of affection for the young chef – not the aforementioned young chef that went back to culinary school, but the one who has been there since I started. He turned 18 last Tuesday. Last night at the catering, he was basically head chef, as he was our only chef, taking direction from owner chef, but then left on his own to woo and wow the masses. As his helper, I took direction from him and I was pleasingly surprised at his maturity and grace under pressure. (Especially when one lady, not happy with the ginormous portions of grilled flatbread and the ackee dish we had on the tables, decided to help herself to the salads and fruit we had covered on the table.) Ackee, by the way, is the national fruit of Jamaica man. It is de-lish!

Not that I haven’t flirted with him before, because I’m not bashful, but I honestly have a lot of affection for him, which everyone frowns upon because I’m 20 years older than he is and because I chose to treat him like the mature young man he is, versus my child or kid brother. I may be no Demi Moore and he’s no Ashton Kutcher, but I have a feeling I’ll be telling my co-workers to butt the fuck out of my friendship with him. I have no vile, evil intentions and they can just get over it.

And that prayer thing that Vince mentioned in my last comments, yeah. Well, I can’t say my faith hasn’t been shaken quite a bit in the past 22 months. I’ve prayed a lot, and I’ve told them and myself, that I know there is a purpose for everything that has happened. I’ve told myself that “God doesn’t like a quitter,” nor anyone who sits around waiting on life to happen to them, that a knight on a white horse isn’t going to show up and rescue me and all rescues should be self-induced. Sitting around in my house isn’t going to accomplish anything so I make that effort to go somewhere other than work and home, whether it be here or beyond. And, there’s the whole positive-attitude-white-light-projecting-pep-talks and the vile job of shaking off negative baggage and dealing with crap instead of just stuffing it further into the deep confines of my heart and psyche.

I mean, who wants Mr. Right to show up and me in the Wrong Place emotionally?

In as far as Mr. AZ, well, I learned a lot from that whole bullshit. I’ve definitely learned that I do have the capacity to hate someone with every sub-atomic particle in my body. The problem with that, is that you have to really care to hate someone and I really do care. The rest of the lyrics from “The Bitter End” tell a tale of love and hate.

(Through these times)
I’ve always held your hand
(By your side)
Everyday you couldn’t stand
(I’ll hold on) to see you rise again
(I’ll still love) You ’til the bitter end
‘Til the bitter end

I’m ready for the bitter end, okay? I know why I haven’t moved on past this yet and its because I had a huge emotional investment in AZ. I spent a greal deal of time walking around indifferent and numb and now I’m just pissed. I am very angry because I feel as though he took advantage of my love for him and used me at his discretion. I hate the fact it still bothers me. I hate the fact I fell for it. Its EMBARASSING to be played so fucking hard and buy into it with your whole fucking soul. Which is exactly what I did.

After Kevin died, he and I spent a lot of time together and on the phone. She wasn’t around and he and I did what couples do to console one another, emotionally, mentally, physically. And later he said, “I asked her not to be there and she said for me to take my time and she would be there when I was ready,” like she was some kind of saint. Oh, after I get him through the screaming, crying part of it, she can take the spoils of war. I told him, “Its not about whether she’s willing to be there for you, its about how much you’re willing to let her be there for you…” and he looked at me and the “like you are” was spoken.

Pretty powerful shit there. Don’t get invested in that. It didn’t mean shit, at least not to him, because two weeks later, he asked her to marry him. That’s what I meant to him – nothing. To believe anything else, regardless of what he did for me after the fire, regardless of all of the talks we had, the porch time, the backrubs, the blowjobs, the pussy lovin’, the laughter, the blood, sweat, and tears, the hugs and kisses, to believe anything other than it was a big fat fucking head game and that I EVER meant anything to him is detrimental to my recovery.

Given that I would rather not make this mistake again, and given that I would prefer not to carry this sort of baggage into another relationship, I’d better get crackin’ on making this the end. I’d like to truly get to the point where I am indifferent, not numb indifferent, just indifferent, because the opposite of love isn’t hate, its indifference. Its past time for the bitter end.

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#957

September 8, 2008 at 9:52 pm (Attitude in Overdrive, AZ, Beading, Crazy Shit, Friends, Music, My Travels, Nate, T-Bird, The House, Work, Writing)

Does anyone remember my good ole days of writing? I used to write funny shit, light-hearted stuff, stuff about work and Nate, and even when I wrote about Jeff it was more out of a funny pity than cold, hard hate. When I wrote about religion with fervor and belief?  When I still loved AZ and had stars in my eyes?  Remember when I used to really write? Like poems and short stories and novellas? When I researched and put a hell of a lot of work into my writing instead of mere stream of conscious stuff?  When I would spend multiple posts, sometimes a months worth, explaining the who, what, when, where, and whys of Jeff, AZ, and T-Bird?  When I made up my own spells at the ends of posts and spoke of magick?

I just went back and deleted all of the doubled posts from when I transferred over from Blogger, so I took a peak into my former life. I can say its a lot of the same angst, but in there somewhere was a lot of snarkiness and passion for the written word. A reminder that I used to write fiction, long ago, and enjoyed it. That I used to post pictures of my beadwork, that I used to bead a lot more than I do now. I wrote about my experiences with my friends and my travels to see those friends. Well, I guess some things haven’t changed.

I still quote lyrics in my writing. I can still be snarky. I still use writing as therapy. I can still put together a mean blog post.

I can’t help but remember though, that it seems my life lost a lot of its light when Kevin died, when AZ got engaged and married, after the house fire. 

And, I still haven’t spoken to T-Bird about her e-mail. Frankly, I haven’t found a way around the pain yet. I don’t know if I ever will. I have supported T-Bird almost unconditionally, keeping my opinions and criticisms to myself for the most part. And when I did speak up, it was gently, without malice. Keeping silent, when I could have said so much because, “one should be kind in their words, as they do not know the battles that someone else is facing.”  To attack me, my son, and my parenting skills in one fell swoop, well, she may as well walked up and stabbed me in the heart.

To respond in the fashion I wish, would make me no better. We all have failings as parents, as humans, and as humanity. I’ll be the first to admit that I have a HUGE SOFT SPOT where my only child is concerned, but I’m not oblivious nor blind to his failings either. However, something has to be right, or wrong, if the only people who find fault with him are his father, who is the most negative, dreary, look for the worst in every person on Earth kind of guy, and T-Bird, who is so fucking anal about her kids, especially the one she gave birth to, that you can’t breath wrong around them that she isn’t up in arms.  It almost cost us our friendship once, I’m afraid it has cost us our friendship this time.

Like I told her when she e-mailed me about responding to her first e-mail, “There’s very little I can say to make this situation better, but a whole lot I can say to make it worse.” And I mean it. You may say, “But, Nanner, if you respond honestly, she may learn something.” Since when is it my job for people to learn something? I’ve learned that my best friend could ball up 12 years of friendship and knock me in the gut with it. That’s what I’ve learned.  I really don’t give a fuck what she learns.

Unfortunately, its the kids who are the losers in all this, and I don’t mean mine. I mean her’s, who call me Aunt Nanner. Especially the little ones, who saw me more than they see their own biological mother. I miss the kids. But, T-Bird was big enough to invite me to her son’s birthday party, and I will be big enough to go because I wouldn’t disappoint him and selfishly, I want to see the little ones.

So, no, I’m not the person I used to be. I wish I could find her again.

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Spiritual DJs

June 25, 2008 at 10:52 pm (Alice in Chains, AZ, Crazy Shit, Music, Relationships)

John Edward made the observation that the coolest job on the “other side” would be that of “Spiritual DJ” – the lucky soul who gets unlimited access to every song ever made and then must coordinate the seemingly coincidental playing of that “special” song at opportune moments – She’s getting in the elevator — cue music.

Somewhere between john Edward, Napoleonic dreams, dreams of lose teeth, letters to Sherry, and 600 miles, I realized that I really haven’t dealt with some things… like AZ getting married. Maybe I haven’t dealt fully with the fire or with Kevin’s death or even Hermione’s, but definitely AZ getting married is the one thing I shoved furthest down. The one thing I simply had no more energy for.

This is what happens when too many things pile up and this is what happens when the remaining energy you have to deal with grief and loss is gobbled up by a soul sucking alcoholic. I didn’t realize this until I no longer had to deal with the alcoholic, at least not on a daily basis.  This further compounds until you are carrying around the 500 lbs. of grief that John Edward talked about. It is a heavy burden.

I realized I had a problem when I spoke to AZ from Detroit International.  He had his usual complaints about work and work and work but said his home life was going great and wasn’t causing him any grief. My conditioned response of, “Oh, that’s great!” barely beat out, “I don’t fucking care about your home life and I don’t want to hear about your home life and I want to slap your face everytime you mention it.” I definitely have a problem here.

Its a mixture of seething, spiteful anger and a broken heart, a betrayed heart, a scorned heart – the most dangerous mixture on the planet.

I really have no need to have anyone to agree or disagree with me. I feel the way I feel and nothing will talk me into it further or out of it.  Not that comments or suggestions are not welcome and appreciated, but, I’ve already found the perfect sounding board. It may seem a bit odd, but I do tend to be a bit odd, its part of my appeal, but even I have to admit, this is one of the ODDEST ways I’ve ever dealt with a problem.

*TANGENT* Not really a tangent and sort of part of the story. Anyway, since I had my Come-to-Jesus talks with Jeff, I cut back on the Alice in Chains, at least for a while.  You can usually tell what’s going on by what kind of music I’m listening to and I thought by maybe changing my music, I’d actually change what was going on. That didn’t really work. Instead of not listening to Alice, I just started listening to different songs by Alice.  Because with Alice you have the “Fuck, my relationship ended and I feel like shit” songs, the “Fuck, my daddy was a drunk bastard” songs, and the “Fuck, my relationship ended and she was a psycho bitch so I’m glad to be rid of her” songs, and the “Fuck, life is fucked up sometimes” songs.

Instead of simply shifting focus, I also shifted songs.

*END OF TANGENT THAT ACTUALLY GOES WITH THE STORY YOU JUST DON’T KNOW IT YET, BUT YOU WILL*

The other night I was laying in bed and I started chatting and telling this person about AZ as though he were dead, because in so many ways, he is dead to me. Its the same feeling. Its the kind of loss that has a heartbeat.  I cried, not big gulping sobs, but, more than I have and I felt a little better. And this person didn’t do or say anything because, as you probably know, he’s not really here, physically, or any other way that I’m aware of, except through his music.

Its Jerry. You know, that guy from Alice in Chains. Yeah. No, don’t send the men with the straitjackets. I quite possibly feel more sane these days than I have in over a year, don’t spoil it for me.

Now, please don’t believe that I came by this very eclectic counseling tool lightly. I feel as though I’m self-aware enough to know when I’m truly heading over the deep end of the sludge pond. I was contemplating this as I drove home the other day and I thought, “Geez, its like I’m crying on his shoulder.”  She just thought “crying on his shoulder”… cue music.

Immediately, and I do mean immediately, I heard the opening acoustic riff to “I Stay Away,” by ALICE IN CHAINS. Not just any Alice song… but the song which has recently jumped to the top of my Alice song rotation. The one with the lyrics… “Tears that soak a callous heart.”  Not that I didn’t listen to “I Stay Away” before, I believe its been quoted here before, but, not nearly as much as “Sea of Sorrow,” “Bleed the Freak”, “Angry Chair,” “Anger Rising,”  ” No Excuses”, and “Don’t Follow.”

I said, out loud, “You gotta be shittin’ me!” 

See, I know you were wondering when I was going to tie in that “Spiritual DJ” thing. My work here is done. Draw your own conclusions.

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Royal Flush

November 4, 2007 at 9:33 pm (Attitude in Overdrive, AZ, Nate, T-Bird)

Remember how I said I was going to try and blog more? Well, I am blogging, just in my mind. Finding time this past week to put it “on paper” has been daunting. First, there’s Nate. Yeah, the little shitter has been in a big heap o’ trouble. Let’s see… school. At the age of 11, and having informed him numerous times of what is expected of him, I gave him enough rope to hang himself and damned if he didn’t. I’m tired of chasing after him to do what’s expected of him. I let him fall and then I grounded his little ass for eternity or until his grades and his behavior improve.

Now, for some reason, Jeff didn’t see it the same way that I do. He thinks I should spend every moment that I’m not at work policing Nate. I think it is well past time for Nate to feel the consequences of his actions and those consequences had better hurt or we’re just not doing our jobs as parents. We’ve since worked that out, I think. I’m sure its not over, it never is.

Between Friday and Saturday I worked 27 hours, helped T-Bird move a chair, which entailed having to go to my former nabes house (at 7:45 a.m. no less, after having gotten off work at midnight) and pick up their truck, which is a POS with a bad transmission, driving to another city, picking up said chair, bringing said chair back to T-Bird’s unloading said chair, and then T-Bird and I returning the truck because it took both of us to put the damn thing in gear, and today, my only day off of the week, I helped Jeff load a trailer load of wood at my parents’ place and walked him all over the farm.

I tarred, ya’ll.

After Jeff had his little blow up about Nate and his grades and what a poor pitiful mother I am yada, yada, yada (and I hung up on him), he called back, because being hung up once just never does it for him. However, he apologized for bringing up the past and blah, blah, and I could pretty well tell the next part of the conversation wasn’t going to have much to do with Nate. Jeff wasn’t drunk, but he had taken his medication which makes him really loopy and philosophical and lovey. Did you throw up in your mouth a little? I did.

Honestly, if it wasn’t so damned entertaining I wouldn’t waste my time. Besides, sweeping the leaves off the sidewalk and the porch needs a little spice. However, something he said showed an amazing amount of insight into who I am.

He’s asked me before why I’ve never been married and such things but this time he said, “Ya know, you hold your cards so close to you. If you have a royal flush, you might show the 10, then maybe the jack, hell, maybe even a queen, but it takes a hell of a lot to see that king and that ace, and I doubt anyone has ever seen that ace. Well… then again. I didn’t know, I didn’t know AZ got married. Nate told me and I know that must have been hard.” Thank you, Nate, and why the hell does everyone think I’m falling apart, crying in my bed every night, ready to slit my wrists, and drown in my own sorrow over the fact AZ got married?

I don’t think I’ve even come down on it that hard on my blog and the only people I confide in about AZ in my “real” world are T-Bird and Li-Li and they would never say anything to anyone because they know I’d slit their wrists. And furthermore, I have absolutely no reason to confide in Jeff about anything. He’s like a mean, angry elephant, he’s mean and angry and he forgets nothing and if he can use it against you in the future, he will.

He’s also absolutely right. I am extremely cautious about who I share my feelings with. Odd, considering I publish my journal online for the whole world to read, however, I am totally in control of what you read as I am totally in control of the editing process. I don’t lie to you, but I doubt you ever truly get the full story.

I call that – my ace in the hole.

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Chamomile and Peppermint

October 22, 2007 at 11:46 pm (AZ, Friends, Relationships)

I would ask if possible that you head over to my MySpace page and listen to the song on my profile by a Texas band, Laidlaw. The song is, “Open Up Your Mind.” I hope I can catch these guys the next time I’m in Texas. Frequent readers here will recognize the significance of this song to me.

(Did ya’ll know I’m lactose intolerant? I can handle a glass of milk or a bowl of ice cream, but more than that and I’m a loose cannon. If I drink eggnog, I may as well just drink it while sitting on the toilet because that’s where I’ll be in no time flat. I had two glasses of chocolate milk and a whole vat of brie this evening. I’m not feeling so well. Forget those designer Hollywood enemas, I say, Got Milk?)

I’ve been rather contemplative today. I prefer that over “analytical.” Namely because it involves the root – anal.

Jammie J., who ya’ll should pray for as the fires in Southern Cal inch closer to her, asked how I could pretend to be happy and how she would like to cultivate that trait. I say, nah, don’t do it. I pointed out my own hypocrisy. I detest the way AZ pretends to be happy and all sorts of other things and by doing the same, I am no different.

I’m not certain of his reasons. I am only certain that mine was to hide my pain, hurt, and downright confusion. I wasn’t going to break down or bend at all, because I’m stubborn that way. Plus, I really hated the way he sounded when he told me, like he was waiting on me to do just that. To go off, etc. etc. I’m not sure if he was looking for that or afraid of it, regardless, I refused to bend. I’m just glad he told me over the phone.

I’ve been told I speak with my eyes. Can you guess what they were saying? Well, it wasn’t what was coming out of my mouth.

The reality is, I’m not sure he was in the best place emotionally when he asked her to marry him. He had been under pressure since her twin sister got married, under pressure from his mother and grandmother, that same grandmother who was diagnosed with cancer and passed away earlier this year, he was, yes, emotionally vulnerable because of the sudden and shocking loss of Kevin, just as much as we all were.

I was shocked because we had been together quite a bit between the time that Kevin died and he asked her to marry him, which was the time span of a month, almost to the day. And when I say “together,” I mean in a carnal fashion. Reaching out to each other emotionally and anchoring ourselves… something he should have been doing with her, which I pointed out to him, which he promptly ignored. When I asked him if he loved her, he shrugged his shoulders and said, “Yeah, she’s really nice. Her family is yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah.” Not exactly what I would expect when you’ve been dating someone for five years.

So, yeah, the engagement was not entirely shocking, in that I knew he had contemplated it. I didn’t think he would do it. I haven’t said anything – nothing about vulnerability or the emotionally roller coaster we’ve all been on since this time last year. I would have been useless because you can’t tell anyone anything. They have to figure it out for themselves.

I think what really bothers me, is that I wouldn’t tolerate the kind of relationship they have and I think that’s why we’re not together, and more than likely, never should be. I’m willing to impale myself upon pain to ease it, to bleed out the darkness, to sacrifice part of myself to find another part of myself. He’s not willing to do that. He knows he should but he can’t or won’t. He just lets it build up then takes it out on everyone around him, and the closest target is her. He stopped doing that to me a long time ago, because I would tell him to go fuck himself.

I’m all about digging the thorns out of my skin and he’s all about letting them fester and wallowing in the pus. Ew.

I also think it’s because I had seen how far he had come emotionally. When he came to me with his problems, I didn’t tiptoe around and I pushed him further and further toward the direction he said he wanted to go, which only made us closer. I feel as though he kicked that to the curb for someone more emotionally safe or boring. I feel in some ways as though he abandoned me emotionally. As though everything we had faced together hadn’t really meant anything to him.

He was angry that he was fired from the station only after his grandmother’s death. I told him that perhaps he wasn’t supposed to be there, that he wasn’t supposed to have to take that particular burden on his shoulders, that he wasn’t supposed to impale himself upon that particular burning stake of pain. I forgot, he does like to impale himself, he just never bleeds out nor removes the stake. Regardless, he was not impressed with my particular view of the situation, he just wanted to be angry about it, like he is everything.

Why do I want to be with him again??? Do I really want to be with him or am I just angry with him because I feel he took the easy way out? And what right do I really feel I have to be angry about anything? Because he involved me? Doesn’t mean shit, it still doesn’t have my name on it.

What I’m really pissed off about is I feel like I lost my friend. All these years we didn’t have a “real” relationship, maybe under the guise of not losing our friendship… its gone anyway. It will never be the same and I don’t want it to be. I’m not that girl anymore. He has a wife now. I hope it means as much to him as it does to me.

Two cups of chamomile peppermint tea and I’m still awake.

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You Can’t Handle the Truth

October 21, 2007 at 9:22 pm (Attitude in Overdrive, AZ, Crazy Shit, Friends, Relationships)

Ya’ll know I had this little meltdown on Seven about AZ getting married. I really felt a sense of loss that I wasn’t prepared for or that I had erroneously thought wouldn’t exist. I had purposefully disengaged myself from his life after I left the shop. I didn’t call him a lot, I really left that up to him. I was preparing myself, maybe he was too.

He did call me about a week before the wedding and then I called him. They were good conversations, I guess.

With the fire and the aftermath, I never got to tell ya’ll that AZ and I were together the night before. It was our last time. Although neither of us have ever said, “Well, that’s a sign,” I’ll say it, “It was a sign, maybe.” At least we didn’t get struck by lightning. That would have been a little harder to explain.

My problem is, I don’t know how I feel or I just feel way too many conflicting feelings or I just get to the point where I don’t feel anything at all.

He and I and his new wife and a friend of ours had dinner on Friday evening. T-Bird asked if I was fucking crazy. Well, yeah. I had to bite my tongue several times to hide how well I know him. Things that she doesn’t know, things she’s just figuring out, things she should have known before she married him. By the way, it was our friend who invited me. Another friend who has absolutely no fucking clue what our history is.

I still want to bang my head against a wall. Actually, half of the time I want to level him with a ball peen hammer and ask him what the fuck he’s doing. The other half I want to wake up and find this is all a bad dream. And as always, I’d love some fucking answers. Answers I know I’ll never have because he’s incapable of facing any type of truth and I know this, because I know him. Because I’ve asked him and he just hangs his head.

Why I’m even surprised is beyond me. Why I give two shits is even further beyond me. I wish I didn’t care. Feeling nothing is not the same as not caring. I’ve felt nothing off and on for the good part of a year now. It started when Kevin killed himself. Then the engagement, then the fire, the wedding.

I know a lot of it has to do with just the kind of person I am. A warrior who just packs everything up and slings it over my shoulder and soldiers on. I just keep throwing more shit in the pack and no matter how heavy it gets I keep picking it up and I keep moving. Some days I have to remind myself I’m not a refugee anymore. I’m allowed to open the pack and throw shit out of it because a lot of it I probably don’t need, nor want, anymore.

Yet, when someone tries to take something out of it, I fight them for it. And I’m a fierce fighter. No matter how antiquated a feeling may be, by Lord and Lady it’s mine and I want it!

And I would never want anyone to know how much it hurts. And I would never want to admit how much I’ve become like he is. Because I’ve pretended to be as happy for him as anyone could be and in reality I’d rather black his eye. Instead of thanking him for the invitation to his wedding, I should have ripped it into a thousand tiny pieces and written, “Are you fucking kidding me?” and “Have you fucking lost your mind?” all over them, and then sent them back to him.

Yeah, I’m a little bitter and pissed off.

Amazing how much trust he has in me to keep my mouth shut. Amazing how he still doesn’t notice his own body language, while I miss nothing. Amazing how she had no idea that he’s a light sleeper, a fact I’ve known for 16 years and 6 months of the 16 years and 9 months we’ve known each other. Does he not still hide the clock in the drawer with a towel over it so the fluorescent numbers don’t keep him awake? Does he still not cover his windows with aluminum foil to keep every sliver of light out? I believe he does. And how can she NOT know the best, fastest, and easiest way to put him back to sleep?

I’m convinced they didn’t have sex before they got married. Which, hey, is fine, but I know she stayed over at his place. How could she NOT know some of these things? No wonder he went to such lengths to keep me away from the rest of his life. His dirty little secret, right here folks. Yep, the dirty little secret who knows all of his dirty little secrets. (Can you guess the song that was playing on the radio when I got in the car to go to the reception? Yeah, Lips of an Angel. The Lord and Lady have a sense of humor.)

Yes, it is truly amazing how much trust he has in me. I could rock his world, right down to the core. Maybe that’s why he compartmentalized me, just to make sure I didn’t have the motive or the means. Maybe it was so I couldn’t cry foul more than I have before. I gave that up when he got engaged. Regardless of how I feel, I do believe he’s made his bed and he can lie in it, with or without her.

I keep telling myself he’s not worth it. I just wish I’d start believing myself. Or maybe I wish I’d have that same initial connection to someone that I had with him, that spark, that something. Maybe I wish I could just move on past this grieving process… that I’ve been doing for a year, on different levels, for different parts of my life.

The New Year starts October 31st. I’d better open the pack a little wider and really start tossing shit out if I’m going to make a fresh start. I’ve buried my head in the sand long enough. Its time to start getting honest again.

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New Orleans – The Finale

October 18, 2007 at 10:33 pm (Alice in Chains, AZ, Music, My Travels, Nate)

Okay, so I’ve made it up to lunch with Seven. Our timing was impeccable, as he was exiting the interstate near where my hotel, I was actually walking up Canal Street. This is my 3rd meeting with Seven and honestly, he is one blogger I enjoy spending time with. He was kind enough to cart me over to Gretna and feed me the absolute BEST CATFISH EVAH at “Cafe 615: Da Wabbit.”

He pointed out various points of interest along the way, such as a shopping center that had been looted and burned and the point on the bridge where they stopped everyone trying to flee New Orleans. Da Wabbit was hoppin’… har har har. I will definitely be having catfish with Seven there again!

However, due to fatigue, exhaustion, and way too much thinking while walking, I had a little meltdown about Steve (AZ). Not so much that he got married, but more so that I knew things would never be the same and I really felt a sense of loss of my friend. This was further exacerbated by my puny financial situation, (which I haven’t forgotten about), and a call from Nate’s school… yes, the long arm of education is wide and reaching. Seems Jeff had forgotten to give Nate his meds and that is a recipe for detention.

I was the first blogger to visit Seven’s new digs and they are rather sweet. Perfect for him, and an awesome back porch. It’s only fitting as Lisa B. and Seven were the first blogger visitors to the newly refurbished Casa Peach.

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Too soon, Seven dropped me off at the hotel and I went in to take a much needed nap before the concert.

This did not happen. I tossed and turned and finally gave up, got up, bathed, scented, and left for the House of Blues. No pictures, sorry. Everyone I met in line was from out of town. One gentleman in particular, John, was from Shreveport and his hobby is concerts, about 200 a year. (Even as tired as we both were, we got to know each other a little better after the show… *insert favorite dirty thought here*)

So, the first member of Alice in Chains I saw was new lead singer, William DeVall. He’s really sweet and he was very nice and gracious. None of them lingered long because it seemed as though peeps came out of the woodwork if they stopped for 5 seconds. Next was Sean Kinney, who noticed my “Boggy Depot” necklace, he said it was, “Crazy!” Okay.

Then there was Mike Inez, who was the absolute most gracious of all of the guys. When I thanked him for signing my CD cover, his genuine response was, “It was my pleasure.” Very sweet, very genuine, very down-to-earth.

That brings us to Mr. Cantrell, and let’s face it, the reason I went to New Orleans. He came out of the club and went straight to the bus, however, John had heard from friends that more often than not, Jerry stops on his way back into the venue to sign autographs. Well, I was planting my ass there until it happened. Then I wavered, then I decided to hang tight.

Security asked that we line up and give him some space, which to me, only made sense. As he came down the line, I handed him my CD cover and the ballpoint pen that I had been writing all of this down with. He looked at the pen and said, “That won’t work.” Very quiet, very calm. I said the only thing that came to mind (scared he wouldn’t sign my CD cover after I’d stood there for … four hours?)

“I’m sorry.” Yeah, I can come up with the greatest of lines, can’t I?

He responded, “No, it’s okay. It just won’t work as well,” very calm, mellow, laid-back, he looks around, “I’ll just use this one,” and plucks a silver marker from the guy’s hand who was next to me, then signed his “JC.” I thanked him and then watched him as he went on down the line. Never once did he make eye contact. However, he made eye contact with the necklace I had on.

It was the same look he had given me the night before.

Jerry Cantrell does not look at you. At first, it was as though he was looking through me. But actually, it was more like he was looking into me, as though he’s deciphering some great mystery or riddle. He has one of the most penetrating gazes of anyone I’ve ever met.

He’s also very good at side-stepping over-zealous fans, because you know there’s one in every crowd. It wasn’t me. He stopped at the door and thanked us all for being there.

And that was my meeting with Jerry Cantrell. Yes, it was worth it.

How good of a singer is William? He’s excellent… what I could hear over the crowd singing every lyric of every song, other than the cover they did of an Elton John tune. They also covered “Squeeze Box” by “The Who,” which rocked. The whole show was just incredible. In-fucking-credible. Even though I was way in the back, it was like I was front row.

They didn’t stop to chat after the show so John and I went back to my hotel room. I packed and…

Okay, well, I slept three hours, got up, caught a cab, and flew home.

And that was my trip to “The Big Easy.” I can’t wait to do it again.

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NOLA – Volume I

October 5, 2007 at 6:32 pm (AZ, Family, Music, My Travels)

I started writing my trip report and determined it will have to be broken up into pieces.

The weekend started with Steve’s (AZ) wedding. I spent so much time researching cool haunted places to visit in Nawlins, I was late getting ready. By the way, everywhere in Nawlins is haunted, save yourself the trouble of looking it up. As I parked in the lot at the church I said to myself, “I really don’t want to be here.” I went anyway.

I saw a lot of people I haven’t seen in a long time, including my ex – Lex. I also saw Ray, a total hottie from Steve’s days at his first radio station. Yeah, and he’s single. He has my MySpace page and he hasn’t contacted me since I got home, so I guess he read whatever I’ve written and decided against it, which, hey, whatever. I’m nothing if not honest, perhaps even more so than I should be.

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He was a very handsome groom and she was a very beautiful bride.  Again, I don’t get their whole relationship and really, I’m not the one who has to, that’s between them. She looks happy here but a lot of the time she didn’t look happy at all. She looked miserable, but maybe that’s just her way. By the way, her gown was the shizznet.

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About six drinks into the reception, that morose feeling started and I really had to shake myself out of it. I couldn’t quite pinpoint whether I thought it should be me with him, or whether I wondered if it would ever be me with anyone. Eh.  

All good intentions aside, I didn’t quite make the 7 p.m. curfew I set for myself and didn’t end up back here until 10, then, despite the number of drinks I had, I still couldn’t wind down and go to sleep. Despite my best intentions, and the number of drinks I had, I also didn’t catch any kind of buzz. I should have sucked down that half bottle of Reisling in the fridge. 2 a.m., it came early, but I bolted up, finished packing, fed and watered the cats, and took off.

I arrived at Pittsburgh Intl. 2 minutes late to check my baggage so I had to toss my shaving cream, contact lens solution, and my toothpaste or I would have had to wait on the 11:50 flight. My ass folks! Not after rising at 2 a.m. and driving 4 hours. Bite ME!

I sat beside a very engaging man on the flight to Philly who was also widely traveled and we shared stories. I was so tired that I can’t even remember who I sat beside of on the way to Nawlins because I was asleep before the flight took off, woke briefly when we took off, and slept about 3/4ths of the way to Nawlins. My right hip and sciatic nerve have been giving me trouble and it woke me up.

It was pouring the rain when I arrived and rained all the way to the hotel. However, by the time I got checked in and dumped my stuff, it had stopped. I made my way to Jackson Square and waited on my cousin.

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We ate beignets and drank coffee at the Cafe Du Monde. Still as awesome as evah!

My cousin and I then walked down to St. Louis Cemetery #1, stopping at Marie Laveau’s Voodoo Shop along the way. I did not purchase a chicken foot, although it was tempting. Come to find out, the cemetery was closed, so we walked back to Decatur Street. I pointed out all of the supposed haunted spots along the way, which meant I pointed at every building.

We stopped at Crescent City Brewhouse and had a sampling of their beers –

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watched some football, and then decided we should try and find a different cemetery. We didn’t find much because we went the wrong way and it ended up being forever away on foot so we scrapped that, ended up meeting Seven, went back to the room for a pee break, and then wandered down to the Clover Grill for a late lunch. Huge ass burgers under a hubcap and hashbrowns. It kicked ass.

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Seven took off after we made plans for lunch the following day and my cousin and I went to Pat O’Briens. A guy named Daniel came in after we were there a while and he had a bad habit of kissing our hands, which after a while became extremely irritating and strange.  Booze helped, but not a whole lot.

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We escaped by telling him that I needed a nap and my cousin had to get home; this following a meeting with another gentleman who had recently been mugged and shot on N. Rampart, which runs parallel to Basin where the #1 St. Louis Cemetery is.

So, at 9 p.m. I took a nap.

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And as you all know, the freaks come out at night…

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