such bright and shiny not natural things glowing and wriggling in the slightest of breeze as passersby brush the air with their scratchy cloaks and baggage. It is the Christmas season and the stores are crammed with parents and loved ones worried they will appear as epic failures in the eyes of the recipients of the merchandise so sought after. I admire them from a distance, but I will say this to you. I have felt that sinking pang of insecurity, of being afraid my child will think less of me. For years I put together the holidays for everyone. Making fudge and cookies and brickle (brittle to some of you) and candied nuts. I wrapped coffee tins in festive paper and clear shelf liner, then filled them with edible treasure.
It started as an economic thing really. And I had never drank coffee until long after those days! I miss those foolish times when I would wrap our wall pictures as presents and hang garland (the old retired stuff as we bought or inherited new every other year) and silk poinsettias from the windows. Every year I would add the well wishes and cards to the miles of red ribbon and tack them to where the ceiling meets the wall. They would stretch around the living room and down the doorways and even into the hallway. By now I imagine they would circle the perimeter of every room and doorway and then some. I still add what few cards I get to the box and ribbon(ed) ones; I just haven't hung them in ages.
You see I don't much celebrate or decorate anymore. Sure, when I can I put up a tree, but not the train set or the skating pond. I don't make goodies or wrap aluminium cans or go house hunting for light displays. The significance is lost. I give year round and love year round. The days of adopting a neglected family to bestow good tidings upon are lost too. Now I am the neglected family. My kid and I, by the world and the people and worst of all, ourselves. Why, we aren't even Christians, but don't fret, not without faith either. I love my family. Really. But I can't live with them. I know this and I can't live with too many others either. I have lost my sense of belonging in my quest for answers. I wanted those answers and I wanted the story...and I wanted it to cure everything that I saw wrong with my life. Two outta three ain't bad, is it?
What was I thinking? Cure everything? Like I'm some "maladeous" cretin? Knowing your sick doesn't cure a damn thing. I doesn't pay the outstanding bills or wrap the gifts or even put a smile on someone's face (unless they wish you ill will and that is just awful and...yes, happens to me quite frequently!). I was sick when I did those things. I was sick when I was born. Knowing made me stop and filled me with even more loathing for the family that bore me and the earth that refuses to make room for me. I am a blister on this soil. And I have been lost since long before my quest for answers and now realize all that time wasted didn't change anything for the better in me. It only gave my child another chance or break that I didn't get. For that I am thankful, that and the answers themselves. The point is obviously right in front of my face. I can't go back in time and be twenty-one and invincible again, or so I thought. Now I can't find a holiday heart on the road I have been traveling. But, there is a way, there's got to be, to get that fight back in me and derail this desolate path. There's a reason there is no one on these tracks.
I often think of things and relive the past in some macabre fashion during prescribed holidays. I can't help my self nor do I want to. So where does a mobe go in this infinite world of disdain? How do I carve a new niche out of what shambles I have? Today I will cook dinner and open our gifts (they aren't wrapped) and try to gather a smile for Lobo's sake and make something out of nothing and put aside my fears and worry over financial matters. Tomorrow I will ponder the path I am changing and decide what new roads lie ahead that await me. I suggest you all do the same and love who you're with. Embrace them and be thankful you have just one person who matters to you as I do. Let your friends know you care and let your family know you love them even if you don't much like them. Forgive, this is hard for me, terribly hard. But it is my "to do" list for the New Year that lies waiting for me.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
MC, HH and Fleas on Your Dog!~cheers!
Happy Holidaze from your Queen of Mean, Her Royal Highness, Your Majesty of Infinite Disdain~mobe
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Wicked Child Turns Forty Today
wicked child was born this day with one wry smile and hands clenched behind her back forever clasped for fear should they come loose, the entire funeral procession would stop dead and there would be more bodies to bury. She was made this way and her graces were left on the doorstep of her grandparents second floor apartment they let her parents. A tot and number two in line of procession as she had a sister full of life and smiles who everyone adored.
Unhappy is as unhappy does and I remember a conversation with a friend on his wall that shocked his friends, most of them being of the female persuasion as myself. They were discussing the pluses and minuses that go with being either negative or positive. I merely took opposition to both sides and decided to "educate" the un-knowledgeable in the ways of polarity. One cannot exist without the other. Wicked child knew this at an early age and embraced her credo long before it was cool to be a prick. I know all her secrets and know all her tales having journaled her life nearly forty years, four decades.
A woman child she was born to two parents who weren't quite happy to the second coming. It doesn't take long for a child like this to realize what end of the universe her bread was buttered and she knew she would have to pick her own berries and rape the trees and bushes and smash what little juice and life force she could to make her own jam. Bitter was the taste of her eyes' witness to the world and she would steal every chance she could to sweeten her view. I have permission to tell her tales because we are close, best friends really, and she reminds me of the time a neighbor child challenged her to a death match. The art of tossing frogs! What joys could be had when one's might is lifted on a scale of comparative value as the arm is thrust forward cupping the helpless amphibian and hurling it high into the air to witness its end on the driveway below under the hot sun of a June afternoon. Her face wrinkled and grotesque as her laughter grew and the vile, satisfied, contemptible beast of a child became more proud of herself for the bully she was. Curbs were a significant past time as she would watch ant holes and the comings and goings on the smallest of living thing,s and with her cup of juice in hand, she would drown the hole to squeals of delight as she watched them scatter to save the children, larvae, and their queen.
Girls are full of sugar and spice and this was was no different with her lying eyes of irreproachability and pure honesty when questioned. Only she was wiser than her masters and knew they would never ask the correct query so she would be exonerated from the need to divulge. She sees no need in things and decides the fates of many and the older she became the more horrid was her station. Wicked child indeed who judges and mocks and receives accolades for the folly of larger beast, man.
But now she finds no fun in her games of evil. And she finds no point in her carrying on, though she still is a wicked child and will always be a needy babe and hurried teen. She refused to change in a world that would change her and her like. So strong was the desire to define herself she merely added onto what wicked lay underneath than to trade it for feelings of polarizing sunshine. Now alone she thinks she has achieved as far as wickedness will allow and can sit safely in the confines of her domain as a queen of mean teaching the more magical of her gifts. She is chaos and death and judge and executioner. Tonight she sits with me to tell me her tale and to execute her role from this damned place she created. Tonight she doesn't clear her conscience but barrs her teeth and dares no one in particular to despise her and loathe her and be troubled in their sleep.
I let her have her way. There really was no other choice in the matter growing up with such a foul monster. So tonight she controls my hands and fingers as I divulge some of her accomplishments here and now...
A Wicked Child's Words of Praise
wicked child on mother's hip won't speak or balk or give no lip
shall walk her first barefooted mile alone without her sister child
wicked beast in blonde haired folly shall pick the highest berried holly
to receive the praise of warrior's feather when forbidden to venture out this weather
wicked heathen of piss and vinegar had no goodness seen within her
felled her shin and scraped her knee but proudly sports for all to see
a scar upon the shredded flesh as she pokes it further making it bled
never winces at the horrific tales of monsters, myths and pirate sails
this wicked girl will happy be when the world not bows but turns to flee
from sinister thoughts and ideas she bore of infamous deeds, nefarious lore
that brings a hush to old women's throats so she can smile and twitch and gloat
because she knows her place and accepts it fair and made a safe place, a den, her lair
a wicked woman was bore this day to be a jester for human fae
will jump wildly and macabre of dead bodies galore at her midday meal not a second before
as she gnaws and gnashes, kills her prey with laughter and awesome, shocking, deadly factor
has gotten herself another year to wreak havoc and mayhem in villages near
wicked child gives all to her profession contained that was chosen before her parents had named
the contemptible, fetal, demon spawn as it opened its eyes the first time to yawn
for boredom brings out the best in her spell and with four decades and no one to tell
find the time to take a break and share now with me what a wicked, vile, evil beast she be.
her wicked days have numbered so fast and she had happiness once a long ago past
and now knows the end of the forest is clear so must concoct the most wickedest things here
but don't fret or fuss it's her best work yet, I watch wistfully as she plays with her pets
like the sinister-gruesome woman of the hour, you would never confuse her for boring or dour
she leaves me with question the answer she knows, for you her readers have opinions to hold
"Does it make me all bad to be true to my like, will you behead me or slash me or impale me on pike
for bringing a balance and giving you right to make your own way because I shed a light
that wickedness is needed in this world it seems if those of you happy faces wish fulfilled dreams?"
...and her tired broken body from destruction shuts down. I let her sleep and watch her slumber as her minions, six of them all men, gather 'round her ample body like a cluster of theological stars. They look beautiful as I wonder how something so pure and exact can be so twisted and proud. I will never understand her and luckily I don't have to because she shows me mercy for some odd reason. Maybe because I don't judge her too harshly. Maybe because I see a need for her existence and maybe because she will let me have the biggest piece of cheesecake today. Who knows? But for now I will just admire this creature lying quietly....inside of me~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Unhappy is as unhappy does and I remember a conversation with a friend on his wall that shocked his friends, most of them being of the female persuasion as myself. They were discussing the pluses and minuses that go with being either negative or positive. I merely took opposition to both sides and decided to "educate" the un-knowledgeable in the ways of polarity. One cannot exist without the other. Wicked child knew this at an early age and embraced her credo long before it was cool to be a prick. I know all her secrets and know all her tales having journaled her life nearly forty years, four decades.
A woman child she was born to two parents who weren't quite happy to the second coming. It doesn't take long for a child like this to realize what end of the universe her bread was buttered and she knew she would have to pick her own berries and rape the trees and bushes and smash what little juice and life force she could to make her own jam. Bitter was the taste of her eyes' witness to the world and she would steal every chance she could to sweeten her view. I have permission to tell her tales because we are close, best friends really, and she reminds me of the time a neighbor child challenged her to a death match. The art of tossing frogs! What joys could be had when one's might is lifted on a scale of comparative value as the arm is thrust forward cupping the helpless amphibian and hurling it high into the air to witness its end on the driveway below under the hot sun of a June afternoon. Her face wrinkled and grotesque as her laughter grew and the vile, satisfied, contemptible beast of a child became more proud of herself for the bully she was. Curbs were a significant past time as she would watch ant holes and the comings and goings on the smallest of living thing,s and with her cup of juice in hand, she would drown the hole to squeals of delight as she watched them scatter to save the children, larvae, and their queen.
Girls are full of sugar and spice and this was was no different with her lying eyes of irreproachability and pure honesty when questioned. Only she was wiser than her masters and knew they would never ask the correct query so she would be exonerated from the need to divulge. She sees no need in things and decides the fates of many and the older she became the more horrid was her station. Wicked child indeed who judges and mocks and receives accolades for the folly of larger beast, man.
But now she finds no fun in her games of evil. And she finds no point in her carrying on, though she still is a wicked child and will always be a needy babe and hurried teen. She refused to change in a world that would change her and her like. So strong was the desire to define herself she merely added onto what wicked lay underneath than to trade it for feelings of polarizing sunshine. Now alone she thinks she has achieved as far as wickedness will allow and can sit safely in the confines of her domain as a queen of mean teaching the more magical of her gifts. She is chaos and death and judge and executioner. Tonight she sits with me to tell me her tale and to execute her role from this damned place she created. Tonight she doesn't clear her conscience but barrs her teeth and dares no one in particular to despise her and loathe her and be troubled in their sleep.
I let her have her way. There really was no other choice in the matter growing up with such a foul monster. So tonight she controls my hands and fingers as I divulge some of her accomplishments here and now...
A Wicked Child's Words of Praise
wicked child on mother's hip won't speak or balk or give no lip
shall walk her first barefooted mile alone without her sister child
wicked beast in blonde haired folly shall pick the highest berried holly
to receive the praise of warrior's feather when forbidden to venture out this weather
wicked heathen of piss and vinegar had no goodness seen within her
felled her shin and scraped her knee but proudly sports for all to see
a scar upon the shredded flesh as she pokes it further making it bled
never winces at the horrific tales of monsters, myths and pirate sails
this wicked girl will happy be when the world not bows but turns to flee
from sinister thoughts and ideas she bore of infamous deeds, nefarious lore
that brings a hush to old women's throats so she can smile and twitch and gloat
because she knows her place and accepts it fair and made a safe place, a den, her lair
a wicked woman was bore this day to be a jester for human fae
will jump wildly and macabre of dead bodies galore at her midday meal not a second before
as she gnaws and gnashes, kills her prey with laughter and awesome, shocking, deadly factor
has gotten herself another year to wreak havoc and mayhem in villages near
wicked child gives all to her profession contained that was chosen before her parents had named
the contemptible, fetal, demon spawn as it opened its eyes the first time to yawn
for boredom brings out the best in her spell and with four decades and no one to tell
find the time to take a break and share now with me what a wicked, vile, evil beast she be.
her wicked days have numbered so fast and she had happiness once a long ago past
and now knows the end of the forest is clear so must concoct the most wickedest things here
but don't fret or fuss it's her best work yet, I watch wistfully as she plays with her pets
like the sinister-gruesome woman of the hour, you would never confuse her for boring or dour
she leaves me with question the answer she knows, for you her readers have opinions to hold
"Does it make me all bad to be true to my like, will you behead me or slash me or impale me on pike
for bringing a balance and giving you right to make your own way because I shed a light
that wickedness is needed in this world it seems if those of you happy faces wish fulfilled dreams?"
...and her tired broken body from destruction shuts down. I let her sleep and watch her slumber as her minions, six of them all men, gather 'round her ample body like a cluster of theological stars. They look beautiful as I wonder how something so pure and exact can be so twisted and proud. I will never understand her and luckily I don't have to because she shows me mercy for some odd reason. Maybe because I don't judge her too harshly. Maybe because I see a need for her existence and maybe because she will let me have the biggest piece of cheesecake today. Who knows? But for now I will just admire this creature lying quietly....inside of me~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Just Desserts
just desserts come when you least expect it and then they don't always taste as sweet as you first thought. I went to dinner recently with someone from my past. He has been having problems with a stepchild who is all grown up and full of piss and vinegar. I personally have no ill will feelings toward one over the other and barely even know the young lady in question but consider her mother to be one of the world's causes for global warming via her methane production (can you say "MOOOOOO"?). My child knows these people and at one time I was fond of the man and then things had fallen apart to such the disaster of communication we have today.
You see he raised this kid. He has two natural children that the gods saw fit to thrust upon others to raise because they KNEW he was not fit. And being the stubborn little prick he is and always was he insisted he was smarter than them and knew HOW to raise a child and set out to prove the gods wrong. He fell in love/lust/need of this child's mother and in doing so got himself a packaged deal. A bouncing baby girl of about 6 yrs old. Now she's a swarthy 22yrs I think. And she is rebellious and disrespectful and all things you would expect of a teenager who has never been told no and put on a pedestal. All the while his own two natural children received less attention than the evening's beer bottles that lay strewn about on the floor. He taught this girl to drink and wear tattoos long before she was even old enough to purchase them for herself. He taught her what a "haughty" and self-indignant righteous attitude was by his example. He taught her how little he cared for anyone other than himself by hurting her mother repeatedly either emotionally or physically and financially or all. So the next part I'm going to tell you shouldn't come as a shock...
When he moved her mother out and took in another woman while still married to the kid's mom it devastated her. Her mom is disabled and not well (no this isn't my story) but the kid sucked it up. She decided she didn't want to move to another state because all her friends were here and he let her stay with him. He thought it was cool one of "his" kids wanted to "hang out" with him. She lived with him then moved out then moved back in like kids do when trying to get on their own. Only...this last time...she came home drunk one evening and he laid into her verbally, kinda like the way he used to with her mom. And she plowed him. (good for her) And he pushed her. Fight over. Most all was settled and some several minutes later the police were at his house to arrest him. In his pj's he was cuffed and shoved into the back of a cruiser to head to jail. No underwear, no shoes/slippers, no shirt, no sweater....just a pair of Cat In The Hat sleep pants that read something along the lines of "The Things I Can Do!"...*chuckles. The charge was domestic battery. The little bitch called the cops on him and while he was in jail cleaned out his house and left like the thief in the night she was. Needless to say she was never going to be welcome back again, so he tells me but we shall see.
So I bet you're all wondering where is the just desserts? The truth is the guy is a major fuckup with a chip on his shoulder. He is a wife beater and neglectful and seedy and criminal. He expects plenty for nothing and takes credit for shit he has no right to. So, when he was relaying his tale of his trip to the clink I couldn't help but get this warm and funny feeling in the pit of my stomache...you see I know this man. Quite well. And the thought of him sitting in jail in those pants in the middle of a pod of really bad fuckers, all 5'4" & 128lbs (soaking wet) of him, like a twink in those pants advertising what a fruit he is behind closed doors (he loves to be open with me about the things he has done), I couldn't help but crack the fuck up and think to myself..."SELF! This is what makes life worth living!"
It was funny and cute. The look on his face as he told me and my kid this tale was just even more funny because you could see him reliving his fears in his own eyes. He knew hell that day. He knew what it was like to live with "him" and the things that happen as a result. But my laughter was lost soon afterwards and only a wry smile traces along my mouth and lips. You should have seen my kid's face though...the problem is this: I feel sorry for the chump. Not because it happened. It should have happened a long time ago really. I feel sorry because it took so long for him to realize the error of his ways and he seems in a particularly devastating place and at some pivotal moment in his 42yrs of life. He is where I was at when I was 25yrs old. And he put me there.
This is my daughter's father. The man who spent tens of thousands of dollars on his stepchild for karate and all sorts of shit a kid really doesn't need and they really couldn't afford but made every excuse in the book to avoid seeing his own kid and making her LAST in his world. He never has set eyes on his other child from a previous marriage and the only one he can claim to have raised was his step. And she "bit" him...HARD! And I feel sleazy trying to enjoy the irony and the humor of the whole ordeal. Because he is my daughter's father. We went to dinner together. I paid because for once he was broke which he never is. This is the first time I was able to see him as a child and lost and needy and I wondered why I couldn't see all this ahead of time...but then am glad I hadn't because the one good thing he ever did was make me a mother, even if he didn't intend on staying a father (that ill-fated drunken night he called me and told me I had a lovely parting gift that he GAVE me my kid like I always wanted...I hated him for saying that but it was true...only I thought he wanted to be her daddy and my husband and build a life together. Those words still stung...).
Our evening was pleasant as we ate and listened to his story. I was dressed well and he looked like his mommy had left to his granny's house and forgot to leave out and iron his clothes. His daughter sat next to him and I was across the table. That meal was the first he ate in a week because he has always been too proud (of what right?!?!) to ask for help. But I helped him and spent the time with him and yes, even laughed at him. As much as I had despised that man and wanted bad things to happen to him, I now know that I wasn't thinking on what was best for his kid(s). I'm glad they let him go and that no dude tried to make him their unholy bride (chuckles). That knowledge would have hurt Lobo more than you know and I would have had to pick up more pieces as a result of is actions. The truly funny thing is he never hit the child in question. She hit him and for all the slaps and threats I received I think he had it coming. Now my kid has at least one good memory of her father and mother together laughing at his folly and spending an evening together. And...for that I am grateful.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
You see he raised this kid. He has two natural children that the gods saw fit to thrust upon others to raise because they KNEW he was not fit. And being the stubborn little prick he is and always was he insisted he was smarter than them and knew HOW to raise a child and set out to prove the gods wrong. He fell in love/lust/need of this child's mother and in doing so got himself a packaged deal. A bouncing baby girl of about 6 yrs old. Now she's a swarthy 22yrs I think. And she is rebellious and disrespectful and all things you would expect of a teenager who has never been told no and put on a pedestal. All the while his own two natural children received less attention than the evening's beer bottles that lay strewn about on the floor. He taught this girl to drink and wear tattoos long before she was even old enough to purchase them for herself. He taught her what a "haughty" and self-indignant righteous attitude was by his example. He taught her how little he cared for anyone other than himself by hurting her mother repeatedly either emotionally or physically and financially or all. So the next part I'm going to tell you shouldn't come as a shock...
When he moved her mother out and took in another woman while still married to the kid's mom it devastated her. Her mom is disabled and not well (no this isn't my story) but the kid sucked it up. She decided she didn't want to move to another state because all her friends were here and he let her stay with him. He thought it was cool one of "his" kids wanted to "hang out" with him. She lived with him then moved out then moved back in like kids do when trying to get on their own. Only...this last time...she came home drunk one evening and he laid into her verbally, kinda like the way he used to with her mom. And she plowed him. (good for her) And he pushed her. Fight over. Most all was settled and some several minutes later the police were at his house to arrest him. In his pj's he was cuffed and shoved into the back of a cruiser to head to jail. No underwear, no shoes/slippers, no shirt, no sweater....just a pair of Cat In The Hat sleep pants that read something along the lines of "The Things I Can Do!"...*chuckles. The charge was domestic battery. The little bitch called the cops on him and while he was in jail cleaned out his house and left like the thief in the night she was. Needless to say she was never going to be welcome back again, so he tells me but we shall see.
So I bet you're all wondering where is the just desserts? The truth is the guy is a major fuckup with a chip on his shoulder. He is a wife beater and neglectful and seedy and criminal. He expects plenty for nothing and takes credit for shit he has no right to. So, when he was relaying his tale of his trip to the clink I couldn't help but get this warm and funny feeling in the pit of my stomache...you see I know this man. Quite well. And the thought of him sitting in jail in those pants in the middle of a pod of really bad fuckers, all 5'4" & 128lbs (soaking wet) of him, like a twink in those pants advertising what a fruit he is behind closed doors (he loves to be open with me about the things he has done), I couldn't help but crack the fuck up and think to myself..."SELF! This is what makes life worth living!"
It was funny and cute. The look on his face as he told me and my kid this tale was just even more funny because you could see him reliving his fears in his own eyes. He knew hell that day. He knew what it was like to live with "him" and the things that happen as a result. But my laughter was lost soon afterwards and only a wry smile traces along my mouth and lips. You should have seen my kid's face though...the problem is this: I feel sorry for the chump. Not because it happened. It should have happened a long time ago really. I feel sorry because it took so long for him to realize the error of his ways and he seems in a particularly devastating place and at some pivotal moment in his 42yrs of life. He is where I was at when I was 25yrs old. And he put me there.
This is my daughter's father. The man who spent tens of thousands of dollars on his stepchild for karate and all sorts of shit a kid really doesn't need and they really couldn't afford but made every excuse in the book to avoid seeing his own kid and making her LAST in his world. He never has set eyes on his other child from a previous marriage and the only one he can claim to have raised was his step. And she "bit" him...HARD! And I feel sleazy trying to enjoy the irony and the humor of the whole ordeal. Because he is my daughter's father. We went to dinner together. I paid because for once he was broke which he never is. This is the first time I was able to see him as a child and lost and needy and I wondered why I couldn't see all this ahead of time...but then am glad I hadn't because the one good thing he ever did was make me a mother, even if he didn't intend on staying a father (that ill-fated drunken night he called me and told me I had a lovely parting gift that he GAVE me my kid like I always wanted...I hated him for saying that but it was true...only I thought he wanted to be her daddy and my husband and build a life together. Those words still stung...).
Our evening was pleasant as we ate and listened to his story. I was dressed well and he looked like his mommy had left to his granny's house and forgot to leave out and iron his clothes. His daughter sat next to him and I was across the table. That meal was the first he ate in a week because he has always been too proud (of what right?!?!) to ask for help. But I helped him and spent the time with him and yes, even laughed at him. As much as I had despised that man and wanted bad things to happen to him, I now know that I wasn't thinking on what was best for his kid(s). I'm glad they let him go and that no dude tried to make him their unholy bride (chuckles). That knowledge would have hurt Lobo more than you know and I would have had to pick up more pieces as a result of is actions. The truly funny thing is he never hit the child in question. She hit him and for all the slaps and threats I received I think he had it coming. Now my kid has at least one good memory of her father and mother together laughing at his folly and spending an evening together. And...for that I am grateful.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Cleaning the Slates Again
sometimes it becomes hard to change everything we want to about ourselves. Try and try again but we fall short of the mark to be able to achieve a completely clean slate. The only way we can release the past is to rectify the numbers and tabulate the losses and let them go. Some of us find it most difficult. Those of us with impeccable memories can attest to that...
My ex and I went to dinner this evening with our child. He remarked that I wasn't all bad. I agreed but more importantly, I knew I wasn't all bad back then either. I saw myself in his eyes and realized he replaced the fresh-faced girl he once knew with the shrew he created and about damn near forgot the woman he fell in love with so long ago. And it shocked me. I never forgot the kind and silly boy he was. I hold that memory close to my heart and pray everyday she is with him that he is still like that boy when he is with her. I like that image better than the monster I grew to know.
I want to change my future but I have to account for my past. I was a good girl yes, but I was a cunt too. I know this and most days I am quite proud of the fact. He should be too as he had a hand in setting the things in motion that would enable me to become the shrewd business woman and cautious ally that I am today with people I interact with. In order to rectify my past I have to accept not that I am this but that I became this. And let it go...I think I did that tonight. I no longer view him as a child so much as a man who is broken and that it is HIS choice to fix "it" or not. I chose to leave long ago and I don't regret it.
Lobo sleeps tonight under his watchful eye but also with the knowledge I have culminated in her and planted like a seed. Someday she will look back on today and realize we are just two people who got along long enough to create this beautiful creature and bestow upon her the skills we could (or not) and set her out to accomplish her goals. It is all we can hope for and in a sense...I am at great peace in the know of my part in that~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
My ex and I went to dinner this evening with our child. He remarked that I wasn't all bad. I agreed but more importantly, I knew I wasn't all bad back then either. I saw myself in his eyes and realized he replaced the fresh-faced girl he once knew with the shrew he created and about damn near forgot the woman he fell in love with so long ago. And it shocked me. I never forgot the kind and silly boy he was. I hold that memory close to my heart and pray everyday she is with him that he is still like that boy when he is with her. I like that image better than the monster I grew to know.
I want to change my future but I have to account for my past. I was a good girl yes, but I was a cunt too. I know this and most days I am quite proud of the fact. He should be too as he had a hand in setting the things in motion that would enable me to become the shrewd business woman and cautious ally that I am today with people I interact with. In order to rectify my past I have to accept not that I am this but that I became this. And let it go...I think I did that tonight. I no longer view him as a child so much as a man who is broken and that it is HIS choice to fix "it" or not. I chose to leave long ago and I don't regret it.
Lobo sleeps tonight under his watchful eye but also with the knowledge I have culminated in her and planted like a seed. Someday she will look back on today and realize we are just two people who got along long enough to create this beautiful creature and bestow upon her the skills we could (or not) and set her out to accomplish her goals. It is all we can hope for and in a sense...I am at great peace in the know of my part in that~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
I Was Just Thinking...
I Was Just Thinking...
the walls do cave when the lights go out and the lone-ness sets in
it is all I can do to not shed one drop of saline in the hopes that I appear "together" to the outside
a realm apart and always too self aware and now...hopeless
lifeless...wanting so much with so little to put in the place of these wants.
it is why I don't achieve. I have nothing to give and it is known that there is no barter here
days keep going too fast and I have finished naught what was started decades ago
given up for the love of another and another and another and another
until little pieces of me were gone like marbles in the dirt
and now
I want them back. All of them.
I want those pieces back and to feel whole again and when I look back I can't see a particular day
one moment in time or period to which I was completely satisfied.
there isn't one. I was too young when I was young and now I am too old, but I am young
I have always been too short to reach anything even my own goals and too wide to hide
I am even too thick to put to bed and lay to rest and too smart to get along with many
been accused of being funny and insane without even trying, and sent a joke faltering into thin air
...without so much as a snicker
so I have done nothing.
I sit for the first time with all that belongs to me of the physical sense of "things" and pets and kid
and I take no claim to any of it.
and seven of those things are alive and rely on me as if I was their life force to provide for them
and I suck at that too. I resent having to do it alone but I don't resent doing it
I resent having to make so many sacrifices but I wouldn't have done it any other way
I resent being stubborn and defiant when others have praised me for it claiming it makes me stronger
convictions suck
everyday is lived to be honest and good for some invisible belief that in the end it all matters
watching people do less and take more and prostitute themselves with lies and cheats and hatred
and I see it all
from my computer and my car and my cell and my eyes, though failing, along with my teeth
oh I look so young, but I see a day when all this blessed youthful visage gives way to a haggard old cat lady
so the boys and girls of tomorrow can poke more fun at and not just the size of her ass
tired is not the word for what I am
lonely and tired
lonely for like minded people and tired beyond the human years I was given
but I'm not
and yet I am expected to be
by everyone, even those who would say nay
because it is all they know and it is hard to contemplate the fact I even exist
or that my world is completely different
I have no rights
they tell me this while I am being chained to a flock
I have to conform
I must obey
and there is no reward
disdain and despair are like dancers on stage
calling me to bear witness
as I sit at my computer and watch what's left fall apart in a world not designed by mine
with hands who claim no fault
and dodge stones and tomatoes.
~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
A Headless Chicken On Your Superhighway
it takes money to get anywhere nowadays. Today I spent quite a bit getting electric and water and sewer and what not turned on and now I still have to get cable/internet/phone on and change address with license, court, disability, SSD, business and banking. Always something.
I am sad today for a different reason. Not entirely miserable so just stay seated and chill. I will miss certain facets of what has come to be a crutch and co-dependent excuse for my disdain. I have always been good at pointing out the obvious so why shouldn't I take a "pot shot" at myself once in a while? Pretty soon over the Thanksgiving holiday I will be changing Laurel's school and unpacking and setting up "mobe-stead" for the pending future. I am already unhappy and finding fault with the place and finding reasons to sabotage my own unhappiness because I am letting fear guide my logic. Not very smart of the lass now is it?
I don't necessarily let fear rule me like that. I do let it push me and motivate me and once I grab my cast iron frying pan and my last grouping of "sons" (the kittehs), I will be completely on my own, again. I won't have anyone to blame for my folly that I know of yet though the fates love to act like bowling is played by placing you, the ball, at the end of the alley and throwing the fucking pins at you until you either bleed out or fall down. And fall down I do, often and truly most of the time not on purpose and usually at the mirthy happiness of others who find it amusing. It's tragic really because I don't advocate living this fucked up...I guess we all have incomplete puzzles we need to put together and kudos to those that get it done or at least admit it AND start to work on it. For me it is a lifetime quest really.
It's not that I'm afraid for my own sake. Any single person is always going to find a way. But to still have children at home...it is difficult and the they get more difficult because they see and witness the fallacies. Teenagers pick up on everything and then...throw it in your face. I don't want that kind of failure. I haven't been perfect but I have been close. She's testing her wings and trying to flex her "mean" muscles to stand up for herself. And she's doing it with people who love her and whom she has no reason to be so forward with. I only want her to be happy and it is why I worry so much and try so hard, for her.
It's a hard knock life and when I was younger I got to play "Annie" in a silly elementary school play. I could identify with the little girl in her crappy life and hoping and dreaming it would be better. That the guardians who looked after her were imposters and that a "real" mommy and daddy would come and put their arms around her and tell her she was loved and special beyond her wildest dreams. Then, life kicked her in the crotch. Hard. And she got up and dusted herself off and worked her ass off to make something, if even small, of herself. I am proud of the things I have done. But I feel I could have done more and now I am unable to do much at all besides entertain you all and believe me that doesn't pay the light bill or last night's supper. It's my "Schindler" mood, where I suddenly realize that my good wasn't good enough and that I squandered away time and energy on foolishness and should have been working even harder. I am sad and feeling the sting of my own self loathing right now. If only our children knew! If they knew how much we did and how little at the same time and how important it is that they make something of this place and try to "fix" the things some of us had broke.
Sure, it isn't their job to correct our mistakes but the youth has its rewards and everyone even the weak and lame has a part. Mine is now changed. I point out the obvious and focus on trying to raise a good citizen. Most people pray they just keep their kids away from drugs and drama but I decided long ago it wasn't enough. If I couldn't finish what I wanted that she or he should have some sense of duty to "humanity" (makes me chuckle now when I think on it considering our current state of genetics) to not destroy what isn't ours. So she gets a one-sided history lesson along with theology, arts, sciences and math. I am hoping that for all the unfinished business I have, that she will want to work on some of it...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
I am sad today for a different reason. Not entirely miserable so just stay seated and chill. I will miss certain facets of what has come to be a crutch and co-dependent excuse for my disdain. I have always been good at pointing out the obvious so why shouldn't I take a "pot shot" at myself once in a while? Pretty soon over the Thanksgiving holiday I will be changing Laurel's school and unpacking and setting up "mobe-stead" for the pending future. I am already unhappy and finding fault with the place and finding reasons to sabotage my own unhappiness because I am letting fear guide my logic. Not very smart of the lass now is it?
I don't necessarily let fear rule me like that. I do let it push me and motivate me and once I grab my cast iron frying pan and my last grouping of "sons" (the kittehs), I will be completely on my own, again. I won't have anyone to blame for my folly that I know of yet though the fates love to act like bowling is played by placing you, the ball, at the end of the alley and throwing the fucking pins at you until you either bleed out or fall down. And fall down I do, often and truly most of the time not on purpose and usually at the mirthy happiness of others who find it amusing. It's tragic really because I don't advocate living this fucked up...I guess we all have incomplete puzzles we need to put together and kudos to those that get it done or at least admit it AND start to work on it. For me it is a lifetime quest really.
It's not that I'm afraid for my own sake. Any single person is always going to find a way. But to still have children at home...it is difficult and the they get more difficult because they see and witness the fallacies. Teenagers pick up on everything and then...throw it in your face. I don't want that kind of failure. I haven't been perfect but I have been close. She's testing her wings and trying to flex her "mean" muscles to stand up for herself. And she's doing it with people who love her and whom she has no reason to be so forward with. I only want her to be happy and it is why I worry so much and try so hard, for her.
It's a hard knock life and when I was younger I got to play "Annie" in a silly elementary school play. I could identify with the little girl in her crappy life and hoping and dreaming it would be better. That the guardians who looked after her were imposters and that a "real" mommy and daddy would come and put their arms around her and tell her she was loved and special beyond her wildest dreams. Then, life kicked her in the crotch. Hard. And she got up and dusted herself off and worked her ass off to make something, if even small, of herself. I am proud of the things I have done. But I feel I could have done more and now I am unable to do much at all besides entertain you all and believe me that doesn't pay the light bill or last night's supper. It's my "Schindler" mood, where I suddenly realize that my good wasn't good enough and that I squandered away time and energy on foolishness and should have been working even harder. I am sad and feeling the sting of my own self loathing right now. If only our children knew! If they knew how much we did and how little at the same time and how important it is that they make something of this place and try to "fix" the things some of us had broke.
Sure, it isn't their job to correct our mistakes but the youth has its rewards and everyone even the weak and lame has a part. Mine is now changed. I point out the obvious and focus on trying to raise a good citizen. Most people pray they just keep their kids away from drugs and drama but I decided long ago it wasn't enough. If I couldn't finish what I wanted that she or he should have some sense of duty to "humanity" (makes me chuckle now when I think on it considering our current state of genetics) to not destroy what isn't ours. So she gets a one-sided history lesson along with theology, arts, sciences and math. I am hoping that for all the unfinished business I have, that she will want to work on some of it...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Nothing Accomplished
unseasonably this is my favorite time of year and the travelers have set foot out quite early. I remember when it would snow in late September and early October and it has taken over thirty years for those days to come about again. I wonder what the world was like then and if the issues of the day were ideally the same...The 70's had oil embargoes and shortages; today too. Governments were overthrown and drug use was at an all-time high...if it wasn't the 20-teens I'd say it was the seventies all over again.
It would surprise you all to know that just like the rest of the creatures on the planet I ail. I am capable of being sick and requiring medications and such. I am even most amicable, or as amicable as one would expect when I am ill...only I try and keep to myself and then as a result, lose large blocks of time in the case of this weekend. I slept through it. And awoke to find no one called, no one messaged and to my dismay either no one missed me or no one had time. As sad as that sounds and it did, I wasn't too distraught in that fact. I usually have to fight and frustrate myself trying to play catch-up or posting a "Do Not Disturb" sign on my wall, blog, door, voicemail and anywhere else. It was nice to be left alone for that duration. But I miss the flock wanting my words and my humor and my wisdom.
So I reflected in my solitude on the times and how not changing they are. How so much of each decade is poured into another and the way it all culminates into people just repeating themselves. Toddlers not listening, tweens wanting everything under the sun and teens thinking they know more shit than you. It was the same then and it will be the same some hundred decades from now. And not just with our youth. Our elder members are not much different than their fathers were. I reflected on politicians and disease and religion and even food. Nothing has dramatically changed other than the speed to which humans continue to make asses of themselves. Faster phones and cars and toasters and microwaves and television and technology, but in the end nothing has changed enough to have made a significant impact on how we use and leave this planet.
Did you know that even in medicine that the names they give diseases and disorders are only there to create a panic state and to unload "soon to expire" stockpiles of medication on the masses? No new diseases whatsoever and yet we have all these scary names attached to old diseases and no one wonders why? I have virus, a sickness, the flu. Pure and simple and because of my genetic predisposition to asthma and having copd it always turns into bronchitis. It's a sure bet. But nowadays it's the Swine Flu or H1N1 and a mass panic runs to the doctors and gets that dose of medicine in the form of a weaker strain of the disease in order to build up antibodies to fight it. I been fighting it on my own without a shot since I have been an adult.
So sickness shall strike us all and in the end, the only things we have accomplished as a collective is to perfect the art of war where we don't need actual people in the field (scary when you think of it that at any moment someone can see you scratch your ass or pick your nose and decide you aren't worthy of another breath and press that little fucking button and wipe you and your ovaries/spermatozoa off the face of the planet into a poofy cloud of fire and ash!) when we can just do it from an office somewhere in the urban sprawl. We sliced bread and found so many innovative ways to "not" do shit that we have become lazy. Too lazy even to give a damn or communicate properly with one another and we will be dumbing down our languages to non-existence before long. Shameful really but WTF?~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
It would surprise you all to know that just like the rest of the creatures on the planet I ail. I am capable of being sick and requiring medications and such. I am even most amicable, or as amicable as one would expect when I am ill...only I try and keep to myself and then as a result, lose large blocks of time in the case of this weekend. I slept through it. And awoke to find no one called, no one messaged and to my dismay either no one missed me or no one had time. As sad as that sounds and it did, I wasn't too distraught in that fact. I usually have to fight and frustrate myself trying to play catch-up or posting a "Do Not Disturb" sign on my wall, blog, door, voicemail and anywhere else. It was nice to be left alone for that duration. But I miss the flock wanting my words and my humor and my wisdom.
So I reflected in my solitude on the times and how not changing they are. How so much of each decade is poured into another and the way it all culminates into people just repeating themselves. Toddlers not listening, tweens wanting everything under the sun and teens thinking they know more shit than you. It was the same then and it will be the same some hundred decades from now. And not just with our youth. Our elder members are not much different than their fathers were. I reflected on politicians and disease and religion and even food. Nothing has dramatically changed other than the speed to which humans continue to make asses of themselves. Faster phones and cars and toasters and microwaves and television and technology, but in the end nothing has changed enough to have made a significant impact on how we use and leave this planet.
Did you know that even in medicine that the names they give diseases and disorders are only there to create a panic state and to unload "soon to expire" stockpiles of medication on the masses? No new diseases whatsoever and yet we have all these scary names attached to old diseases and no one wonders why? I have virus, a sickness, the flu. Pure and simple and because of my genetic predisposition to asthma and having copd it always turns into bronchitis. It's a sure bet. But nowadays it's the Swine Flu or H1N1 and a mass panic runs to the doctors and gets that dose of medicine in the form of a weaker strain of the disease in order to build up antibodies to fight it. I been fighting it on my own without a shot since I have been an adult.
So sickness shall strike us all and in the end, the only things we have accomplished as a collective is to perfect the art of war where we don't need actual people in the field (scary when you think of it that at any moment someone can see you scratch your ass or pick your nose and decide you aren't worthy of another breath and press that little fucking button and wipe you and your ovaries/spermatozoa off the face of the planet into a poofy cloud of fire and ash!) when we can just do it from an office somewhere in the urban sprawl. We sliced bread and found so many innovative ways to "not" do shit that we have become lazy. Too lazy even to give a damn or communicate properly with one another and we will be dumbing down our languages to non-existence before long. Shameful really but WTF?~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
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