Today Was Fucked Up Enough, I Think... (VENT)

Everything went pretty much normally today, until Christina came home.

The boys came home at their normal time - George had group, I had the others do homework & help out, etc.

So, Christina got home (after her therapy appointment) around 5 PM, she worked today, so she had to get ready. I asked her how the appointment went, and she said, "Fine.", but I had the impression she really didn't want to talk about it. I went back to what I was doing.

Anyway, Kevin was watching The Alamo (2004) for his film class, Eric was in the kitchen / dining room making cocoa - and they got into a discussion about a bike that Deanna's boyfriend was going to sell Eric for $20. Eric said that he figured he could turn the bike around on ebay for $150, Kevin said he wanted the bike. I was back & forth through the living room, and came downstairs to hook up the recording deck - the discussion became an arguement, then a hostile conflict - Kevin told Eric he was acting like a jerk over the bike, Eric was muttering at Kevin about how he was acting like a baby, stuff like that.

I went upstairs to break it up, and Christina started yelling at me that I didn't know what was going on, and that Eric was being unfair, and I told her to stay out of it, I just wanted the fight stopped, and besides, Eric didn't have the bike yet, anyway - it was no big deal. She kept up bitching at me, and I said I just wanted the arguing stopped, and went into my room to lie down and get quiet for a few. Christina called her mother and went outside to wait for them to pick her up. They did at about 5:30. About 15 minutes later I get this phone call from Deanna who started in on me about how Christina is miserable and how she "Can't talk to me." and how it's no wonder she doesn't want to live with me anymore.... I told Deanna that Christina wasn't talking to me about this stuff, that I always heard it secondhand from Deanna, and that Christina can (and does) say anything to me that she wants, but that all I could figure was that this was just another case of unhealthy triangulation. She said "You don't show the kids any affection at all. And I'm not going to sit around and put up with it." So, I told her that I was planning on leaving St. George, and I would either take the kids with me, or she could get her shit together and take them if that's what she wants to do. She asked me when I was leaving. I told her I didn't know, but reminded her that I told her from the instant I came to this town that I wouldn't stay here a minute longer than the kids needed to be here, that I didn't have any, nor did I want any roots in this place.

So, she starts yelling and swearing at me, about how "I had to get away from you because of all the Hell you put me through, and now you're doing the same thing to the kids!" I didn't take the bait. I told her if she didn't stop yelling and swearing at me i would hang up. She screamed "Go ahead, hang up on me, I don't give a fuck..." So, , I hung up on her.

Fast forward to about 7:00. Deanna's boyfriend's car pulled up in front of the house. All the kids ran outside and started talking to their mom. I stuck my head out the door and asked "What's up?" Deanna said that Christina was going to a business meeting with them, but needed to change after work. She seemed to be acting like nothing had happened. Well, I didn't have any interest in talking to her so, I went back in the house and finished putting dinner on. After I finished, I went back downstairs and told Christina that I didn't really understand what happened this afternoon. She said, "Well, neither do I. I was suddenly VERY angry, and I'm not sure what it was all about." I told her that her mom called me up, screaming and swearing at me, and Christina apologized and said it wasn't my fault. I told her that I was sorry for participating in her upset, but I didn't know what she wanted or thought because she hadn't communicated anything to me other than anger. She then left to go to the business meeting.

So, WTF?

Anyway, like the subject line says, I'm just venting. I love my kids, and I don't want to "get rid" of them - but, I swear, if she would just go somewhere and be happy, or do whatever so I didn't have to deal with her directly anymore, I would breathe a lot easier. Gah!


Done venting.

I hope your day went better.

We're all an OCEAN

I'm a O80-C74-E48-A22-N14 Big Five!!

Can you make it easier for me to understand,
How you're holding my heart, in your trembling hands...
Eyes that rise to meet me half way up among the stars,
You may be from Venus but I'm definitely not from Mars

CHORUS
You're An Ocean, You're An Ocean
Settle Down, Settle Down,
What's the commotion,
I'm an island, but you're an ocean,
It's a stormy sea of love and emotion,
You've got me suspended motionless in time

Make the warm winds circle round my head just like you do,
If I could do it, I'd be doing it to you,
I believe I'd buy whatever you would sell to me,
Nothing in my life ever came with a guarantee,

CHORUS

I believe I'd buy whatever you would sell to me,
Nothing in my life ever came with a guarantee,

CHORUS

-Fastball

A Letter To My True Love

My Dearest Love,

We do not need our love for survival, which is a mean thing.
We will survive beyond the illusions of death and time.
May our mingled light draw life unto life,
that our joy may inspire the lonely survivor to shout and shine.

We do not need our love for happiness, which is a personal responsibility.
I cannot be unhappy knowing who walks beside me.
Percieved distances and differences are but a measure
of the potential of our collaboration, itself a priceless treasure.

We do not need our love for pleasure, for sensual is fleeting.
The sky and stars, some wine, a blanket, and thou.
A word, a touch, ah, the sound of sunrise singing; quiet things,
moments; threads; woven to years of a future history's tapestry unfading.

We do not need our love for easing sorrow, for sorrow is passing.
Sorrow must be borne, and will not bear us down. Grief as real as death
stands not against love, but sorrow humbly kneels to love, bowed head knowing
the value of pain that strngthens and renews love's courage and forebearant worth.


Kahlil Gibran wrote in The Prophet:

You were born together,
and together you shall be forevermore.

You shall be together when the white wings
of death scatter your days.

Aye, you shall be together even in the
silent memory of God.

But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

Love one another, but make not a bond of love.
Let it rather be a moving sea between
the shores of your souls.

Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.

Sing and dance together and be joyous,
but let each of you be alone,

Even as the strings of a lute are alone
though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

And stand together, yet not too near together.
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

And the oak tree and the cypress
grow not in each other's shadow.

You just call out my name
and, you know, wherever I am
I will be there
You've got a friend.
-Carol King


Feed us to the hunger of our noble hearts
Consume us in our passion's flame
Beguile us with our bodys' subtle arts
The morning sun will rise yet again.

May we always be kind.
May we always be true.
May we ever be mindful.
And do with love and thankfulness
all we do.

Goodnight Love
-b

I Cleaned My Room

The title link will take you to some photos - for the sake of propriety, I have covered up the orange sheets.

Now, I need to clean my bathroom...

What 9/11 Taught Me About Hopelessness

Yawn, stretch, eek - it's 9/11 again!

Five years ago I sat & wrote the following notes on my own changing condition of hopelessness... I had been clean from narcotic addiction for 2 months and 2 days.

The only thing I used to feel hope about was scoring, my life was reduced to "Waitin' for the man, and the man don't come", not soon enough, anyway. Whether it was a bag or a script, it didn't matter- hope thrives through prayer, and about the only time I prayed was when I was on that unholy cusp between the rock of the potential fix and the hard place of impending withdrawal. If I scored, hope was unnecessary- I was either hopelessly happy, or hopelessly lost.

I would use for a few days, not even bothering to keep track; sometimes I would purposefully "lose" pills, drop them into my backpack or in a drawer. Soon, I would start paying attention, and would start trying to hedge my bets. Every night before bed I would check to make sure I knew exactly what I had, which was bad if I had a lot, because I'd just use some more and end up staying up half the night wasting. When I had a moderate amount, I would carefully calculate how long I could go before the next score, or the next withdrawal period- then I would start formulating plans for the next doctor's office, dentist's office, or ER run. When I was running out, I got depressed and irritable, I would get cold and indifferent to the situations of others, and be an all-out bastard. I was feeling sorry for myself, and the hopeless state I was in, and I took out my misery on everyone around me, especially on my wife and my children. During the last three or four years of use, I wouldn't give any drugs to any one for any reason, no matter how bad the toothache or headache or whatever it was. I figured, if their problem was that bad, they could get their own. Of course, if I found out somebody had drugs I liked, I'd beg, borrow, or steal them- it didn't really matter how I got them- I got them.

Not being satisfied with my own hopeless situation, I created an atmosphere of anti-hope in my life. I became unapproachable by my friends and family, and made it a point to jump all over any shortcoming (real or not) of anyone who I even thought might try to tell me there was something wrong with me. A good frined of mine once told me "You seem to take great pleasure in pissing on the flames of any happy campfire you happen to run across." My response was something like "Everybody needs a hobby."

That's the extent of the journal entry for that day - I had to get the kids our the door for school, and then everybody what kept me busy for the next... well, not five years, that's for sure - or, is it?

I did a scan of my hard drives, and the only other file created or last modified on September 11, 2001 is Oasis' "Don't Look Back In Anger":

Slip inside the eye of your mind
Don't you know you might find
A better place to play
You said that you'd never been
But all the things that you've seen
Will slowly fade away

So I start a revolution from my bed
'Cause you said the brains I had went to my head
Step outside the summertime's in bloom
Stand up beside the fireplace
Take that look from off your face
You ain't ever gonna burn my heart out

And so Sally can wait, she knows it's too late as we're walking on by
Her soul slides away, but don't look back in anger
I heard you say

Take me to the place where you go
Where nobody knows, if it's not all day.
Please don't put your life in the hands
Of a Rock 'n Roll band
Who'll throw it all away

Gonna start the revolution from my bed
'Cos you said the brains I had went to my head
Step outside cos summertime's in bloom
Stand up beside the fireplace
Take that look from off your face
Cos you ain't ever gonna burn my heart out

And So Sally can wait, she knows it's too late as she's walking on by.
My soul slides away, but don't look back in anger
I heard you say

So Sally can wait, she knows it's too late as we're walking on by
Her soul slides away, but don't look back in anger
I heard you say

And So Sally can wait, she knows it's too late and she's walking on by
My soul slides away, but don't look back in anger, don't look back in anger
I heard you say

At least not today.

Ironic, no?

Afghanistan is fallen, Iraq is fallen, Saddam Hussein is in jail, and, and well, and the Bush Administration just requested another 80 billion dollars to keep these two occupied countries occupied. The administration has misled us, lied to us, twisted what little truth there is concerning "The War On Terror. (Ever notice that acronym?) But, the countries named above aren't fallen enough, never mind the New World order to-do list that dwarfs any action taken so far; even considering the entirety of the history of warfare, what Bush has planned is pretty freakin' huge.

I don't watch TV, but my son says they're selling commemorative coins made from metals salvaged from the towers - $29.99 (discounted from $49.99) + S&H (only 5 coins allowed per customer.) Here's a google-search that reveals a plethura of 9/11 commemorative crap. (even a 9/11 Zippo!)

Hopelessness? Let me just finish on that point.

I'd much rather be a recovering junkie and have to face the errors and / or sins of my past than have to face the memories of the five years since 9/11 as a surviving member of a family that lost someone on the planes, in the towers, on the ground as a rescue worker, or in some other way that this disaster managed to rip lives apart.

Five years of many people being shuffled around like paperwork by their government at all levels, while that same government vastly increased defense (defense - lol) spending, made travel more costly and difficult for all citizens, and funnelled all that money into killing more people - while they, the "noble survivors of the tragedy" have lived not knowing what will come next from the government, the legal wranglers all around them, or even from the media (yeah, I just wanted to work in a special FUCK YOU to Ann Coulter), and now there's the ever-increasing commercialization of the anniversary of the most tragic day in their lives. And the military machine moves on, and the body count (that the administration say it isn't concerned with) keeps rising - and the hatred is not in the least abated - what do terrorists do on five year anniversaries?

9/11 taught me that I need to put my hope in the right place - not blindly in a bunch of power-addicted people who make money by having other people killed.

I will leave the dead in peace today - I will, however, wear black to mourn the hopeless living.

Will these people ever learn the simple lesson that war ends nothing but life?

Moving

"You can never go back home again."
-Tom Wolfe

Moving is a pain in the ass - there is so much that needs to be done in order to say that one has 'moved' that no amount of planning will ever encompass the actual experience. I know this, because as a child we moved a lot, as an adult I have moved even more than a lot- and, if my children were blogging here, they could tell you that they have moved way the fuck too much.

Moving, planning helps, sure, but there are odds and ends that do not fit into plans - things that are so fragile and bulky so as not to fit into the the tight-packed moving van, forgotten things, things that should really have been discarded but were packed anyway, people who will be left, people who will not accept change in their lives, even if they don't really have the control over that change. There are things that end up being moved because they still might be fixed someday, and things that are abandoned because they just won't fit the new place. Many people not only end up having a moving sale before they move, but one after they move, too. I have done this more than once.

I am a good planner - when I decide to move, I get out a notebook and start making lists - I have even designed a PERT chart and supporting task lists as a tool to expedite the resolution of potential confusion and conflict and thereby facilitate a smooth move - it sort of worked, kind of, well, the idea was good...

Virtual moves are similar - as a writer, and a person with a need to express my ideas coherently, I have spent the last several months considering the move of ideas and efforts to a more manageable space (this one, silly), and started thinking about customizing the weblog to fit my needs and tastes - and didn't do anything until the last minute. So, yeah, this sounds a bit anal retentive - just slap a template into place and start writing, yes? No.

I have other writing scattered around, and thought that it would be good, for a change to keep my work together - ordered so as to be (hopefully) helpful to anyone who should either want to know me better, or who should happen, through soem twist of dharma, luck, or drunken blogdiving to come in and wallow for awhile.

Getting things ordered is not brain surgery - but, you try re-coding pieces from text, BBcode, HTML that blogspot doesn't like, making sure graphics don't overfloat the sidebar to the bottom of the page, and you'll understand why I (a) almost gave up on the idea, and (b) feel so damned good now that the proces - the hard part, anyway, is complete.

Even a virtual move is frought with unforseen struggle and frustration - I'm just thankful that I didn't have to face mashed fingers, toes, or the other physical injustices that one endures while getting from one place to the next.

Now that the virtual move is over, I'll go back to thinking about...

Moving

Moving stranger, does it really matter?
As long as you're not afraid to feel
Touch me, hold me, how my open arms ache
Try to fall for me

How I'm moved, how you move me
With your beauty's potency
You give me life, please don't let me go
You crush the lilly in my soul
Moving liquid, yes, you are just water
You flow around all that comes in your way
Don't think it over, it always takes you over
And sets your spirit dancing
-Kate Bush

New blog

I have started a new blog on Intimate Partner Violence. If you wish to go there, just click on the the title of this entry.

I will be tinkering with the format over the next couple of weeks - so, expect changes.

Wander Away

I can't change you,
I won't be anyone
but me, and I won't
pretend to enjoy
your need for pain

I won't bang my head
against your wall
of complacency
So, I'll just shake it off
and wander away