Love goes on and on....

[honeyspur]

Here is my journal to keep my mind focused.

Although I question the validity of ADD - I'm definitely a candidate for it.

 

I think being focused is a big part of my relationship working. Everytime we have broken up - in addition to the reasons - my focus has been lost.

Can't work on issues without focus right? Right!

 

Things are good with us now. We even had a party last night and I didn't get all uppity when he decided to go to bed early.

 

Earlier in the evening, he almost started a fight by saying he didn't think I'd set the alarm for him, once I came to bed.

I just kept saying, "You're supposed to trust me right?" until he stopped.

 

I know trust is something my man has a hard time with. But it's time for him to become more conscious about it and change his attitude. I've been in love with him since we were 20 years old. And we've known each other since we were 15. Sitting in Math class, joking with my best friend Sally - who had a crush on him at the time.

 

And here we are - 15+ years later - I am still struggling with our relationship, trying to get to a place where we will feel good about getting married. We didn't even get through a year of our engagement without breaking it. (That's a whole OTHER story)

 

My therapist, Beth, is going to be disappointed to find out we got back together but not surprised. This is odd, because I was surprised - that's for sure.

 

And what about Ron? What is he doing now?

Sometimes I'll suddenly realize I haven't thought about him in days....

I know he doesn't hate me - but does he wallow in self-pity, as he was like to do when we first met? How are things with with the Big Boss? Dora, the hard working mom, bottled up in her Bronx apartment? Maria, the psycho ex that was just starting to date again when I left.. Rob, the twin, who was living with his girlfriend and his ex and all those kids.......

 

A chapter spent but permanently fixed in my mind. An experience I shouldn't have gone through, but don't regret. I look back on it fondly still.....

 

Time for me to get going on my jewelry. Till next time....

[honeyspur]

Another day, another crappy 70's movie and too much coffee.

 

But who's complaining?

 

Got my man in the kitchen, choppin' up veggies for our feast I'm about to cook.

I love that I have a guy who learned cooking was an excellent skill to work on. I remember the days when he approached me, with some degree of pride, a piece of cinnimon toast on a plate, carefully sprinkled with chopped, raw garlic.

 

"This will make your cold go away, really." he assured me as I tried not to balk.

I thanked him heartily, but refused saying, "You wanna try it first?" to which he declined.

 

But now he's almost got it right. He makes some amazing things. These crazy slow roasted chickens marinated in lemon juice. Some highly spiced rice dish with raisins and almonds he created one evening.

 

So it's chicken chow mein tonight. Kinda blase', I know, but the only thing with soba noodles (which we have coming out the ears!) I feel like eating.

 

 

Here's a fantastic recipe:

 

Flexible Thai Soup

 

INGREDIENTS

 

• 1 shallot, chopped
  
• 2 T chopped fresh ginger
  
• 1 clove garlic, minced
  
• 1 can vegetable broth
  
• 1 can coconut milk
  
• 1/4 cup coriander, chopped
  
• Juice of 1 lemon
  
• A few drops of chili sauce to taste
  
• 2 T soy sauce (the original called for Thai fish sauce)
  
• Flexible part - 1 cup fresh spinach leaves, or 1 cup sugar snap or snow peas, or 1 cup water chestnuts, or 1 cup black mushroom

METHOD

Saute shallot, garlic and ginger in a small amount of vegetable oil. Add coconut milk and vegetable broth. Bring to a boil, turn down to simmer. Add coriander, lemon juice, chili sauce, soy sauce (or alternative) and vegetables. Simmer until spinach is wilted and veggies are tender but not limp, approximately 5 minutes.

Serve with rice. Serves 2 to 4.

 

 

Add chicken boullion (1 Tablespoon)

Add brown sugar (1 packed tablespoon) after you add the veggies.

 

It's so amazing!!

 

 

Didn't make any jewelry today.....maybe I'm getting burned out......

[honeyspur]

I am trying to muster up enough courage to go out and have a nice meal with myself.

My boyfriend ticked me off and I don't want to rip him a new one - the only thing I can think of, is I need to do something nice for myself.

Not pick a fight. Not wallow in tears. Not sleep. Not any of the things i do that are obviously linked to depression.

 

But I'm scared. I feel retarded eating by myself and the waitstaff always looks surprised. (I've done this before.) Plus I'm not sure how this will help. Won't I just be ticked again once I get home?

 

Early this morning, after a very nice and cuddly waking up together, I thought he'd left for work and started my morning ritual.

He rushed in suddenly asking me to come out and "watch" his car because he'd run out of gas and had to walk down to the corner station and fill the mini-can we had.

"Can't you just take my car?" I asked, puzzled.

"Well sure - but can you go wave traffic out of the way? My car is halfway out of the driveway...."

 

I reluctantly got dressed and went out.

In the night it had rained and frozen. So the neighborhood looked as if it were encased in glass. My car was encrusted in an icy cage.

He left and I stood there, feeling awkward as cars slowly tried to get around his black Cougar.

 

He returned and filled it up, explaining something about how he'd barely made it into the driveway last night.

In the past, before he had his car and we shared mine, we ran out of gas twice. It has taught me a lesson - but not him I guess.

 

Anyway, he came home from work and we were getting along fine.

I am a jewelry maker (beading) and went out of the den, where we were both nestled in tight to clean up my previous bead-mess on the table.

One of the strings broke and beads started rolling. I rushed to catch them. He did not move. I heard a little "Doh!" come from the den and thought then he would help.

Nothing.

I said, "oh well." and the beads all tumbled, making a lot of noise.

Still nothing.

So I got down and crawled all over the dining room picking them all up.

 

Now, where I'm going with this is, the obvious differences here between us.

I realize I didn't ask him for help, so I'm not blaming him. (I mean, he was able to ask for help right?)

 

But there has always been an issue of selfishness with him that is the thorn in our relationship. And my way of coping has been to fight or isolate or pout. None of these are very effective and usually make me feel like a brat anyway.

 

But going out and having fun or treating myself....I don't know.....they don't seem like a solution either. They seem more like a bandaid. Or a way of avoiding a difficult conversation.

 

 

I'm torn because not long ago, we got back together after being separated for two months. So I'm afraid to bring it up when I see our relationship going off course. But it's the only way he understands how serious I am.

BUT - ugh -](*,) -I know you can't threaten to break up with somebody constantly - I did that with my first boyfriend and that relationship ended in drama and tears. I KNOW it's not an option.

 

This stupid thing with the beads, set off a long thought process about how I feel like I help him at every turn and even drop whatever I'm doing because that's what being in a relationship is for.

 

So we're back to me going out for a nice meal, alone. I've been craving seafood and have a 5$ off coupon for Red Lobster. Should be ok I guess....but what do I say when he demands to know why I went without him?

I guess I just shouldn't care. He can't afford to go out anyway and I can't afford to pay for both of us, so that's that.

I'm sooo nervous - LOL - time to walk through fear!

[honeyspur]

I was sitting in silence last night when i finished writing the above journal entry.

A kind of mantra was going off in my head, Go to Red Lobster - Go to Red Lobster...

I imagined sinking my teeth in warm buttery shrimp, salty cheese bisquits and glasses of iced tea...

 

"What's wrong?" my boyfriend's voice broke me out of my vision.

I stared at him.

 

After a minute, I said, "I don't want to talk about it yet...."

He looked put off and and said ok, walking back into the den.

I sat for some time, deciding how to present my issue to him. No matter how I looked at it - there really was no "safe" way to talk about it.

 

My shrimp fantasy was fading slowly to black.

 

I took a deep breath and walked into the den. Sitting on the guest bed behind him, I watched him play his online character, a brightly colored cartoon racing over the digitized ground.

 

"Can I talk to you about something?" I said after awhile.

He tensed up and logged off, spinning his chair around to face me. He was not open to listening - it was clearly in his eyes.

 

"I'm just feeling like the changes we were making when we got back together are disappearing - I wonder why..."

 

"What do you mean?" he said, face screwing up in immediate distaste.

 

"I just think that when we got back together, we were focused on making time for each other in the day - being more equal - and now things are going back to the way they were before-"

 

"What are you trying to say? You want me to stop gaming?!"

 

My blood began to boil. This was an age old scene. The 999,000 times I had told him "No, I'm not saying stop gaming" was about to click over to 1,000,000.

 

Another deep breath.

 

"I've told you thousands of times that I don't care about your gaming - I game myself-"

 

"And YET," he interrupted me "you are always bringing this up when I'm gaming."

I balked. "You are always gaming though."

"I KNEW IT- "

"Do you want to work this out or fight?" I said, starting to get angry.

"I'm not fighting." he said curtly.

My voice went up, "Why can't I come to you with an issue and have it not turn into a fight??"

"I don't know, why can't you just deal with your issues and not come in here and attack me??"

 

This is another age old scene. I can't tell you how many times he uses the word "attack" instead of "confront".

 

"Aren't you being a little bit extreme?"

"Ok then," he said, crossing his arms "what are you asking for?"

"Could you please keep track of how long you've been playing so if several hours go by, I can have some time?"

"Huh!" he snorted, a nasty sneer on his lips "so you can decide you need MORE time later?"

"I don't understand why we are fighting when I keep telling you I don't want to....." I said in the tamest voice I could muster.

"Who's fighting? I asked, how many hours?!?"

 

It was here I started shouting.

"You know we agreed to this when we got back together - this was a condition you agreed to-"

His face fell and eyes began to well up with tears.

"I knew it - ok-" he stood up and went into the kitchen. I stared at the wall, my ears ringing.

"You've got a lot of nerve-" his voice shook as returned " to threaten me with breaking up-"

"What??" I exclaimed "I never said-"

"Yes you did."

"Noooo....I never said the words-"

"Yes you did." he insisted, grabbing the bathrobe on the bed and marching upstairs.

 

I sat there, regretting not going to Red Lobster.

I heard the shower turn on upstairs.

On his desktop wallpaper, was a huge snowy mountain landscape.

Just like him... I thought, venom dripping over the words ....an icy mountain.

 

My mind filled with violent thoughts. Of him sitting in the chair infront of me, me reaching out and stabbing his two eyes with my fingers, kicking him in the nuts and pounding his head into the wood floor.

"THAT'S AN ATTACK YOU MOTHERF-"

 

My mind snapped like rubber band back to reality.

 

Whoa.

 

I thought again how I should have gone to Red Lobster...

 

 

He returned, the same tense look on his face, but said nothing.

We sat there like that for probably twenty minutes. Occasionally a tear would fall. Songs on the television reflected the reality we were in.

 

"What's wrong with me" and "Why couples fight".

When the latter came on, he laughed, anger obviously subsiding.

"A song about couples fighting - great-" he commented.

I said nothing.

 

More time went by. Clearly he was no longer angry - and I was coming back to sanity as well.

Soon I heard the many tips I know on how to turn a fight off in my head.

 

Give compassion to the angry person. Forgive in the face of judgement. Be the first one to make-up. Admit your fault first and the other person will follow suit. Give them a hug-

 

I began to make silly faces. I got to the second one when he laughed. I lifted my arms up, the blanket draped over me creating a wide wingspan...

 

He laughed again.

 

I scooted over on the bed. "Come over here-" I said.

He went and got a tissue and lay next to me. We lay there, defeated and began to talk about it again, in more civil tones, arms wrapped about each other.

Soon it turned into a discussion about his job.

He was doubtful, another age old problem and condition on us getting back together.

As we talked, we began to debate over petty details.

Although I have a photographic memory and he has a very poor memory, we quibbled over something he told me in November when he started the job.

He had told me that it was a seasonal job and in January and Feburary his hours would go down to 20 hours a week. I remember this clearly. and have been ok with it - knowing I would have to cover some of his expenses.

But he was insisting now that he never said that or knew that and that his boss was an evil man who cared little for him.

We went back and forth and soon he erupted again.

But I remained calm, trying to point out that it was a pattern I'd watched him go through for ten years. He gets the job, is excited, but when it becomes routine he begins to focus on his negativity until he loses the job.

He stuck to the details about what he'd said back in November...

I stuck to my memory.

"That's NOT what I said-" he insisted.

"I don't care - I might be wrong, but I'm not going to lie just to make you happy." I said.

"That's crap!" he paced back and forth, "I never said those things - why won't you just-"

 

I pointed out how he was trying to get me to to jump on the negativity wagon with him and I wasn't going to do it.

 

The fog cleared from his eyes then and all his taut muscles went slack.

After standing there awhile, letting what I say sink in, he came back over by me and we lay again, defeated.

"You are right, you know..." his voice was low and even. He spoke with gentleness. "Just like my dad....he hated working, yet always had food on the table....."

Silence.

"I do think you have amazing positivity....and you shouldn't go into negativity with me -I see that now..."

"I had to be that way..." I said, head in the crook of his arm "my father never worked....he be gone for a few days sometimes....he never did anything to take care of me....and he was always depressed, always negative, talking about he was never going to amount to anything - what a terrible guy he was....."

He was listening.

"....so I knew being like that was not...the answer...."

"Yeah..." he said after a moment ".....I don't want you to go there with me.....I really don't....."

He kept talking, but I could not hear him - the memories of my father flipped like a picture book, in my mind.

Dots began to connect...pieces began to fit.....

ohmygodohmygod

 

My father was morbidy depressed and negative. My father was supported financially by the women in his life.

 

My boyfriend is morbidly depressed and negative. My boyfriend is supported financially by me.

 

My father told me I was wrong if I tried to tell him he'd be successful one day.

 

My boyfriend tells me I'm wrong when....

 

My skin frosted over and my heart went cold.

 

Omygod.....what am I doing???

 

"What are you thinking about?" my boyfriend cut in.

 

I just recreated my childhood!

 

"I was just thinking....." my voice was hollow "about my dad....."

 

My head dipped in my hands and I cried. My boyfriend cradled me, listening to me babble.

 

 

"He woke me up once, in the middle of the night and said, "C'mon we gotta go..." And we just drove around and he ranted about how he was the scum of the earth...he was lower than dirt...couldn't take care of us.....wasn't worth anything....I would say "No Daddy...I love you.....nothings wrong...." And he would YELL at me, telling me I was wrong, I had no idea who he was......he'd yell until I stopped....then rant.......he did that for years....and years....."

 

"But....." my boyfriend said, puzzled, "honey i'm not your dad.....I didn't sell drugs..."

 

"No don't you see?" I sobbed "It's ME-"

"It wasn't your fault-" he cut me off

"NO!!! I'm doing it again!!! I'm trying to fight negativity again - I've been on this mission -"

 

It all started falling into place and an eerie feeling came over me as I realized what I'd done.

 

I remember thinking, way back when my guy and I started dating - I remember thinking - 'I'm going to show this man. I'm going to prove to him he's special....he's worth something....I'm going to make him believe.'

 

"I can't do it anymore." I said. "I can't fight it anymore - I've been doing it my whole life.....I'm not going to do it anymore."

 

He held me and spoke in earnest, "Honey...I don't want you to. I love how positive you are...it's good..."

 

I looked at him right in the eye.

 

"You are on your own with that now." I told him. "If you are going to look at things in a negative way, when you are a buddhist and KNOW that everything has a good and bad side....you are gonna deal with it on your own."

 

He looked at me searchingly. "You know it's not bad that you try to make things positive....."

"Yes I know." I agreed "but I have to stop fighting. I fought my dad for years. And it had no effect on him. He's 55 years old and has nothing but a bad drug habit. It did not help him."

 

He was silent with me for a time, then we went upstairs to bed.

 

As we lay in the dark, he again brought up his work and how he was positive his co-worker was stabbing him the back. I started to argue again!

 

"No - nevermind - I'm doing it again." I said rolling over "I'm not getting into this again - you're on your own-"

 

"No - " he protested, trying to turn me over "I'll stop - I won't-"

"I LOVE you, ok??" I said firmly "don't go off again. Don't DO it." I was firm......

 

Moments passed....he pleaded again.

"STOP - I love you - everything is fine - you need to be ok with it." I repeated.

 

There was quiet at last.

 

We fell asleep.

 

My head filled with dreams........

[honeyspur]

As much as I realize the overall benefit of being in a relationship, I can never help wishing I was single and doing things on my own.

I know that when I actually AM single all I'm striving for is to be with somebody, so I realized this is a kind of backwards way of thinking.

 

I'm just not very good at dealing with aggression. That fight my boyfriend and I had a couple of days ago really showed me that. It took several hours to talk him down and I used every psychothereputic trick I knew. (Man - am I glad I spent practically 20 years studying this stuff - I probably would have killed him by now)

 

I never dealt with the kind of pain my guy went through. He was beaten by an alcoholic father and rarely saw his mother who left, probably to save herself. Aside from physical abuse, his father was very cynical and discouraging. I think also humiliating because he beat my guy in front of some of his friends once.

 

That said, I get really scared when my boyfriend gets hostile or aggressive with me in his tone of voice.

On one hand, I know his experience is what keeps him from being a violent guy -I'm not really afraid of that. But it's getting me to hide more - suppress more - and I know that is a choice. I simply don't know how to deal with aggression. And I think my boyfriend dishes it out so much because on some level because he's used to it.

 

Even though I try and struggle in vain to mellow him out or make my voice heard, it's more important I not engage.

I know a reason I engage is because I'm not sure what not engaging will do. The unknown is always way scarier.....

[honeyspur]

When I sat down to this here, laptop, I was greeted by a folded piece of paper. On it were little hearts and diamonds written in colored marker. Here's what it said:

 

"Honey,

I love you very much! Hope u have a great day, see you soonly

 

Love, Jay

 

 

p.s - I love you more than anything"

 

 

And, you know...I just started crying, because - this is going to sound corny, but I'd just been thinking what our vows would be to each other when (or if!) we get married.

Plus, one of the conditions to getting back together was for him to start dishing out some romance and sentiment more regularly.

 

So here I am with a sweet little note, hoping he comes home soon.

I think my whiplash from the fight a few days ago is gone and I get back to trying to have fun with him.

Maybe we should cook together or something. It's still so damn frozen outside....not a speck of snow or ice has melted.

But at least the ground is freezing up this way and the trees will stop falling over!

 

Tomorrow I'm going to Karen's for a "book club" my friends are starting.

Karen is someone I met through Ingrid, who is someone I met through my best friend Sally, who I've known since we were 14.

Karen's married with 2 boys and she seems a very focused mom.

 

I really like Karen and sense wants to get closer to me - the way she and Ingrid are. I don't know why I've waited this long to do it. I met her, like, 2 years ago and felt it then. Something about that vibe I get makes me uncomfortable. Although it's a natural thing to start out slow, I've always seemed to get...I dunno...irritated is the only word I can think of, but that seems too harsh....

I just like people to be direct. Like Sally and Ingrid were. Within days, we made efforts to start our friendship.

I was very direct with Ingrid. After getting invited over to her house for a get-together, I called and asked if she wanted to go Christmas shopping.

We were able to be together, just us two and set things in stone.

 

Maybe I'm just scared to have a big group of friends again. I was erasing some voicemails today and I heard one from Ron, a little after New Years. He sounded very business-like!

I just am not ready to call and chat with him. I KNOW he either hooked up with someone else immediately or got back to his wife. I can't really see that helping him - but who am I to judge??

 

still haven't received the bloody clasps I ordered off ebay so I can't make any jewelry. I'm B-R-O-K-E, so I can't go to the bead store over on Jackson....and my mom comes home and gives me a pile of new beads!!

 

[honeyspur]

A very progressive day with cleaning. I was able to really get some work done that makes a difference. I am inspired to head out to the store and get storage boxes to pack more stuff away...

 

For once, it looks like my boyfriend had a full day. I'm sure he's happy because that's more $$, of course.

But having him gone all day is nice once in awhile.

I feel like I can really work without being distracted by him or just by wanting to be with him.

 

I feel so lucky sometimes. It's inspired me in terms of decorating my house. I've started envisioning each room and it's layout.

I'd love to do my basement in a real gothic revival style.

Gargoyles and long twisted, black spindles...the whole thing.

[honeyspur]

Yesterday proved to be a great day.

I spent my hours studying my brain research, carefully mapping out the spinal column.

I would think, from time to time, about my guy and how he'd mentioned us going out walking in the snow so I could take photographs. I pictured us, hand in hand, gently drifting through the snow, a twinkling, powdery landscape spanning around us.

 

It was his day off and he was playing his computer. And these last few days, very good at getting off it after a few hours and coming to find me - as we talked about.

So as I dilegently studied, I'd remind myself of this and felt no anxiety to spend time with him.

 

At some point in the early afternoon, he came upstairs and flopped on the bed next to me. We talked and joked around, then went downstairs to the den.

"Want to go walk around and take pictures....?" he asked out of nowhere.

I jumped on this chance, impressed at his mind-reading ability and got bundled up.

"Don't forget to put on your hood..." he said as we walked out to the car.

The snow was falling in large, thick flakes, piling up quickly.

We started to drive.

"Where should we go?" he asked, heading east.

"I don't know..." I admitted, my camera stuffed into my pocket.

"There's Butterfly Park..."

I didn't answer, thinking it was too crowded there. I wanted silence and expansive isolation.

"There's the dam...."

"Oooh....ok..." I said, lighting up at the idea. All those lines - the water, the bridge, the great brown building jutting up from the earth....

 

So we headed out on the curved road of Huron River Drive, banked by willow trees and cattails.

"There's a park here..." he said suddenly "..should we go here?"

"Sure." I followed his spontaneity and we turned into the parking lot.

It was a bird sanctuary. I'd lived in this town my whole life, but had never been there.

It was quiet and daunting, with it's sky high skeletal trees and crumbled underbrush, disguised by a sugary, alabaster glow.

White sky reflected off white snow.

The recent snowstorms had weighed down the trees and brush, overwhelming them. some trees had simply fallen over, the earth underneath still soft and warm.

Hand in hand we walked, I followed his lead, climbing over tree trunks and ducking under sparkling, crystaline branches.

The forest deepened, and we came accross a couple joggers with their dogs.

A large hill with a rich bunch of pines lured us off the path and we climed to see what was at the top.

In the shodaow of the pines was a carefully constructed tee-pee.

Cautiously we approached it, No one was inside and we walked around it, marvelling at the definitive shape and little window.

 

We moved on, coming to a grand cliff with a heavy drop down, revealing a wide basin of snow and brush.

Dwarfed by the scene, we stood and stared. Snowflakes clung to my hair, and my camera had run out of battery power. We walked on until we came to a brook. The highway was in the distance and we turned heading back.

 

"There's a giant gorge around here somewhere..." he said, looking up and down the ragged hills.

But soon we were standing in someone's backyard, quite alarmingly so and quickly veered off again. My shoes had lost traction, so now I was falling a lot.

 

The quiet and the pine smell.

The tumbling of the vines and the redness of the snowberries.

 

"Are we lost?" I wanted to know, the backs of my legs wet from falling.

"Well....I thought we were near to the gorge...but I wasn't expecting that to be Huron River Drive..." he sighed, looking at the road.

We bumbled and slid our way down the hill, "If I die...I leave my money to my mom.....you can have my comic book collection..." I told him when we reached the pavement.

"Glad you're looking out for me..." he commented, pulling me away from the road as cars passed.

 

"See...if this is Sunset up here....my mind is going to be completely blown....we really walked far..."

He was talking about Sunset road, not far from his childhood home and the school he went to.

We had walked really far.

 

Well, after awhile he says,

"Hey, wanna do some Conan the Barbarian roleplaying?"

"Uh - ok - what are you-"

"You be the Frost giant's daughter and I'll be Conan chasing you from that scene-"

"Oh yeah - ok!" I said, recalling the scene in the book we'd been reading.

I started running down the middle of the street screaming like a bimbo and flailing my arms around in a wild flurry while he chased behind, shouting, "Don't be afraid, wench! I don't have time for this!" his hand firmly grasping an invisible axe.

 

We laughed for awhile over this and he said,

"Are you having fun?"

"Yes." I said.

We walked along the road.

"You know what?" I asked.

"What?" he said, walking backwards, so he could face me.

"Earlier today when I was upstairs, I was daydreaming about you asking me to go out for a walk in the snow...."

His smile was bright and fine, like the rays of the sun and all flickering glints of a Brazillian goldmine.

"....and then you did it for real. That takes some real mind-reading..." I said, smiling back at him.

We kissed, pausing there on the road, cars passing.

 

When we got into the car and headed out to Zingerman's, our cheeks were rosy and my pants were soaked, but the coffee never tasted better and the warmth went right through me.

Pasta and shrimp, puddled in wine and butter. Coffe and tea.

And we were tucked in a corner, praising the day and feeling the lightness of ease - in our true friendship...

[honeyspur]

No coffe yet??

AAAAHH NOOO IT'S TOO WEIRD!!

So last night, as I was talking to my man on the cell phone, my hands scrubbing the dishes...he's on his latest rant, but at least it's on a positive note,

"......I just suddenly got really pissed off about how long it was taking, but it doesn't matter I guess...."

"Yeah," I said, hot water streaming over the coffe mug

"It's the same either way...I'm either mad I have no hours or I'm mad I have too many...."

"Right,"

".....so it's just something I gotta.........ah * * *??........"

There was a stream of cursing.

"Are you ok?" I asked, puzzled.

More cursing, something like.....breaking?

"Are you ok??" I asked again.

I looked at our roomate, Mrrr, who looked alarmed.

His phone shut off.

Mrrr and I stared at each other.

"I think he had an accident."

And so it was. when he called me back a few minutes later - clearly not hurt, but about to lose his mind. This was a huge test in acceptance and positivity.

But it was there, I assured him. He had insurance and they would tow it and fix it for free. He could borrow my car until it was fixed and I was on my way to wait for the police to come and take the report.

And I could hear it in his voice as he ranted...but I just kept saying, "That's why it's called an accident."

He was fairly relaxed - an unbelievable achievement for him, in my opinion. He filed his claim, got the car towed and even had time for watching 'Extras' on tv.

"Thanks for being so nice to me...." he said, soft and low as we dropped off to sleep.

Hey - it ain't no thang.

[honeyspur]

I have an announcement to make......

 

I finally cleaned my attic/bedroom!!!!!!!!!

No more insane clutter!!! This is the first time in 2 years!!!!!!

 

Okay.

 

 

Things are going ok otherwise. Still waiting on my boyfriend's car to get fixed. He has to pay a 500 dollar deductable before they fix it, so I guess i won't be getting as much money from him this month as I thought.

This makes me uneasy because we got back together only after he committed to paying me 600 dollars towards the mortgage and bills.

 

I know he has to fix his car, but last month I didn't get any either because his hours were so low.

At least he is being pretty nice to me. No fights or irritable behavior. He even apologized last night when he came to bed,

"We didn't get much time together tonight, did we?"

"No..." I said, groggily. (I had gone to bed early.)

"I will stop playing the game tomorrow by eight...I forgot....I'm sorry.."

"It's ok..."

 

It really was. He's been getting home late these days and I let him alone since he only has a few hours before he has to go to bed. I really didn't mind. Plus, I started playing my game again, City of Villains, since I finished making my Christmas gifts (60 bracelets - holy bats!).

 

Today, the pest control guy comes. He's been coming once a month since November, to get rid of the mice.

They really got out of control and I could hear them every day, all day, for awhile, there.

Ugh - that horrible chewing sound......like they were 3 times their size!!

 

 

I've been thinking about Ron lately....he sent me an email a couple weeks ago and I finally answered it yesterday. He hasn't sent anything yet.

I wonder if he will. He said he missed me - but had gone on a date with his ex. I wonder if he does miss me or just said it to sound nice. My feeling is, he probably has to focus on her if he's plann ing to get back together.

 

I can't help thinking that I tried to keep them together in the beginning, but fell into his persuasive web instead. Not that I wasn't interested, but I did ignore all of my instincts - I must've heard myself say every day that I shouldn't get involved.

But I was too curious and wondered if I wasn't passing up the best guy in the world. And I think I wanted to believe he was going to get divorced faster than is realistically expected. I mean, it takes awhile to go through...I've never been divorced, so how should I know?

Something in me just thought, 'If he hasn't even signed for separation and he thinks he's moving in with me in a month....something's rotten in Denmark...."

Maybe that's still true....I'm pretty sure they still never filed. I'll bet he'll move back in by next month...especially if they went on a "date". They were together for 14 years. A few months separation is probably nothing to them.

 

I do miss him - but our friendship was so sexually charged, I'm not sure how real of a friendship it was. I want to say it was real - it felt real - and we acted like buddies at times. But it didn't take long for me to feel the pressure his wife must have felt for years.

 

You have to satify Ron or he will cheat on you.

 

He cheated on his wife twice and had several online trysts. Eventually, she cheated on him too and they spent some time, avoiding each other, but keeping up the parental duty.

 

He told me he'd never cheat and it was because we were more compatible and he'd learned from his marriage.

But those last weeks of our relationship - where he was increasingly anxious if I was not available at his beck and call.....his 'sweet - talk" beginning to sound mindless instead of meaningful.....it just didn't seem like something we should work on anymore.

 

And my good friend, who I met on eNotalone, had told me I might want to not date anyone in the midst of my break-up...and I knew she was right.

 

The original plan - for him to get some therapy and work on his marriage came back at me in full force and I knew if I let him move here, that soon after it would all come back to bite me in the * * *.

Ron needed to change and getting involved with him didn't help.

I should have stuck to my platonic intentions - if I had...would he have eventually backed off? Or just pursued me relentlessly until I cracked? (Which is what it felt like.)

 

I still remember how romantic and exciting it was - our relationship - meeting each others friends and family - even the idea that we would be married someday and I would be a stepmom.

Now it just seems like my head was full of brambles - a thorny mess.

 

I do want to be friends - but how realistic is that? I couldn't deal with how flirtatious he was and that was just on the Internet! We'd play that game together and have all these other girls in my group and his innuendo would be nonstop! He'd constanty validate me in front of them - I mean they got the point that we were together...but it seems a confusing message to put out: "I'm with this girl, but you still need to know I'm constantly thinking about sex somehow". I think any shady girl would see that as an opportunity to try something when I wasn't around.

 

That was one of the biggest reasons I began to appreciate Jay again because he wasn't like that at all. I can count on one hand the number of times I saw him openly flirt with a girl and both times I understood why.

 

With Ron, it was any girl, any age, it didn't matter.

I kept wondering if it had to do with his self esteem, but he was so outgoing and articulate. He never seemed "off" or like he was faking.

He also seemed kind of surprised that I was jealous. I got the impression that he thought any guy would act like he did and it truly was harmless behavior.

 

I guess it's debatable. I mean, if you flirt and never do anything - what really is the problem? Even if some girl hits on you - you just tell her no - right?

 

Well, anyway, like I said, I appreciated Jay's low profile after that. I know now what it means when they say, "as long as he doesn't give you a reason to be jealous..."

[sweetheart21]

Hi Honeyspur,

 

Just thought I'd let you know that I made your flexible thai soup tonight! It is soo good. I'd never cooked with ginger or coconut milk before. I am usually the worst cook, but this turned out really nice.

Thanks for sharing the recipe

Oh & BTW you write very well. I loved reading your journal. The way you write made it feel like I was reading a novel

 

xxx

[honeyspur]

Glad you liked it - everyone I've made it for asks for the recipe.

 

Thanks for your comments! I love your avatar!

[honeyspur]

Well, tomorrow is D-Day - or should i say - V-day!

 

My man is like every other man - he has a hard time remembering dates.

When he came home from work today, I threw out, "Guess what day it is tomorrow?"

"Valentine's Day?" he promptly replied.

"Yay!!" I cheered, throwing my arms around him.

 

BUT -

 

am I crazy to be worried? I mean, he never even remembers my birthday.

He told me once he doesn't even know what order the months go in a year.

 

I've quizzed him on this - he really doesn't know!

 

I imagine this might have to do with the abuse he took as a child. Perhaps it was better to not know how long the months and years were - in his eyes, there was probably no way out - time seemed everlasting.

How strange it must be - kids who are physically abused - still having some understanding that the abusive parent loves them.

 

I asked him once if he had good times with his dad. He said they were foggy - but he did remember his dad playing bluegrass on his banjo and singing....and of dancing around to the music....

 

I picture my sweetheart - a little mop-haired boy, laughing and smiling with his dad and his brother and sister...

How could someone possibly get viloent with their own child?? And how could they forget how underdeveloped they are when they do something wrong? If they did - wouldn't that keep them from doing it?

 

And then, once that child grows to be a man, how could they honestly look him in the eye?

And yet - his dad does. He looks at him, talks to him - without seemingly a shred guilt.

 

If I had beaten my youngest boy until he was 15 - I'd be cowering in a corner every time he came by.

It's always been hard for me to deal with his dad. Going to the Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners - even trying to sing bluegrass with him - but the contempt I have for the man never fades.

 

Jay seems to have allowed his anger to be dulled down - perhaps he doesn't want to cut off tiees so he can keep punishing his dad in his heart and mind.

 

But.....if you look at me and my dad....cutting off ties doesn't stop the punishing from happening....

I've probably punished my father every day since I last spent time with him.

[honeyspur]

Yesterday was a success!!!

 

My boyfriend came home yesterday with flowers and chocolate. We went out to Godaiko, a japanese restaurant we enjoy.

 

We were standing, waiting to be seated. The restaurant has a wall of mirror that faces the front. Sitting amongst the crowd, I noticed a woman who looked similar to a friend I used to have. This friend and I were unusually close and had a very nasty falling out.

 

I was suddenly really uncomfortable as I stared at the back of this lady's head.

Once we moved closer and sat down, I could see that it was not my old friend and started to relax.

 

The restaurant was crowded. The couple next to us were on their first date. It was hard not to be distracted by them. They were cautious, polite, flattering of each other.

For some reason, I envied them. Not immensely so, but I realized that newness and excitement is always something I'm chasing after.

Even letting it cloud my judgement and wondering if I'm getting boring - if WE are getting boring.

 

We ordered our food. Dragon roll sushi, tempura udon and chicken stir fry. We didn't talk much...the distraction of the crowd, the newly refurbished entrance (they were partly under construction last time we were there) and the couple next to us.

I tried talking about things, being chatty. People were coming in - it was the prime dinner hour.

 

"Wow - we got here just in time..." I commented, watching the door swing open and shut, people coming in, taking off their coats.

"Yeah..." he acknowledged, drinking the miso starter they brought out.

I thought a moment about the old friend I almost thought I was going to run into and how I was a little rattled.

 

I looked up at the entrance.

My eyes focused on a couple....

Is that.....

I squinted.

You've GOT to be kidding-

The man was looking up at the ceiling, hands stuffed in his pockets, shaking his head. The woman, staring straight at me.

Holy crap.....it's Jack!

 

Jack Lockhart. The man I dumped on New Years Eve, to be with Jay.

The waitress sat them directly behind us.

 

Ohhh my god...........

 

"Do you believe karma is a real thing??" I suddenly asked my unsuspecting boyfriend.

"Oh absolutely..." he said, finishing his soup cup.

"I mean....like...a tangible thing...a real force......" I went on, staring at the back of Jack's twitching head.

"Yeah..." he said. "I think Karma is like an energy you give off.....you know Karma is really about getting your bearings....."

 

I tuned out his words as I remembered that day.

How I cried and cried, knowing I was going to break this man's heart. I had waited nearly a month, trying to wait until after New years, thinking I was sparing him some horrible breakdown.

 

But New Year's eve came and I sat on my couch, weeping as I waited for him to arrive.

When he did and saw my state, he knelt beside me.

"I-I'm so sorry Jack.....I'm so sorry, you just don't know....."

He held me, urged me to explain..

"I can't keep seeing you - I think we have to end things....." I cried and cried - how much i hated doing this, immediately wondering why I even got involved.

He started to cry too and pleaded with me.

"I don't understand..." he said, "you still love me...."

"Right."

"But you think we should break up now because you won't love me later?"

"Right."

There was silence.

The bejeweled spectrum of christmas lights softened the awful atmosphere.

He hugged me a few more times.

"I wish....." he said "I wish you had just tried working with me a little more.....pushed me a little further..."

I was struck by this.

In all my days of dating, no man had ever conveyed this to me.

I felt it was very gutsy and realized I may have underestimated this man.

I even entertained it for a second, but eventually, let him walk out the door, head hanging.

 

Now I was staring at the back of his head, sucking down green tea like it gave me the spine I thought I was lacking.

".....because you can create bad karma just by thinking about it too much, you see?" Jay was saying.

"Yeah....." I answered.

Suddenly, they started to get up to leave.

Thank god....I thought, breathing a sigh of relief.

But they just switched places. Now Jack was facing me and his...wife? was facing the front of the restaurant.

She was twice my size and quite plain. I couldn't help feeling an evil twinge of delight in seeing this.

I had gained quite a few pounds when I was dating Jack and had always felt somehow that he lost his attraction to me, but was desperate to be attatched and didn't want to let go.

 

But here he was, with his wife, an obese, plain looking girl with glasses and no make-up.

Just like I was.....

 

I started thinking then, that I HAD underestimated Jack. I had judged him and carried it like a flag these past 5 years.

Now it was clear, I had been wrong.

 

His wife was so large, she eclipsed him from my view and I felt safe once again. I spent some time watching her twitch, then our food came.

 

It was cooked to perfection and soon, I was focused completely on the meal. We ate with relish, but I was happy when the check finally came and we left.

I'm sure Jack was too.

 

Jay and i walked to the car and I told him about Jack.

"Really...." he said, surprised, looking over his shoulder at Godaiko.

"Yeah...it really rattled me...."

We drove home.

"So....you think that was karma back there?" I asked. "I mean doesn't it seem a little weird....Jack lives in another city...we were almost going to go to a different place, then we decided on Godaiko at the last minute...it's Valentine's Day, not just some random day...."

 

"Well.....you don't know if he still lives far away, it's been 5 years..." Jay offered.

"True..."

"And it could just be a coincidence..."

"Pretty extreme coincidence though - " I insisted.

"Yeah..." he agreed, driving past Pioneer, the high school.

 

When we got home, we got on the game, City of Villains and started to play together. The game was having a special Valentine's Day event with special missions and rewards, so we got started.

But Jay is very emotionally tied to video games - takes them a bit too seriously, you know - and got frustrated and angry because we kept getting killed.

The missions were hard, but it's a special event, so I didn't care.

But then I remembered Ron, who I met on this game and I started to have a lousy time too.

"Let's stop..." I said after we died the 6th time.

He went to the character screen to make a new one.

I went upstairs to our room and snuggled under the covers, all my clothes still on.

I just wanted to feel warm and hidden.

Am I haunted?

 

Jack. Ron.

 

Am I evil?

I stared at my tv screen near my bed, my dark reflection staring back.

Why am I ruining a perfect Valentine's Day? The first great Valentine's Day Jay and I ever had?

 

On cue, my boyfriend appeared.

"Hey you...." he said, getting in bed next to me. "What's going on?"

"Oh nothing..." I sort of half-laughed.

"No it's not nothing - you're up here in bed with all your clothes on...."

 

I told him about my thinking and how it just wrecked the night for me.

"I know it's not fair..." I said, "you did so well....."

He smiled then and we snuggled up and began a very important discussion, that lasted late into the night...........

[honeyspur]

The bedroom in the attic is a pretty huge room - it runs the length of the house.

On one end is the staircase at the other is our bed. It's pretty cold because there is only one heating vent and it was not intended to be a bedroom - I just refinished it when i bought the place.

 

In bed, my boyfriend and I were laden down with blankets. 6 in fact.

 

The conversation began about my best friend. She was someone both Jay and I knew from high school and she had been living with a guy we knew since college. They were both great friends of ours but also have a rocky relationship.

Earlier on Valenntine's Day, she had called me and told me how difficult og a time they were having.

"I know it's valentine's Day," she sad, "but I wish i could just get out of here."

I told her how sorry I was.

 

"It sucks they are having problems." Jay said as we stared at the ceiling, blocks of light cast by the city streetlamps.

"Yeah..."

"I hope they get through it...."

I hoped so too. But I know they have withstood this before... I just have a feeling they will.

It got us talking about our early days, the chaotic, non-monogomous days of our relationship. I loved him then, but knew for a fact he could not commit.

He could barely keep a phone.

 

Although it's normal to some degree to date lots of people in your early twenties, I was always hoping Jay would step up and get serious with me.

So whenever we were seeing each other regularly, I wouldn't see anyone else.

When he would vanish, after a month or so, I'd start accepting dates from other guys again...start pursuing some myself....

 

"...those guys I lived with....I was obsessed with the competition we had against each other...." he was saying, referring to "friends" he hung out with since high school. ""..it was pretty macho really..." he added, sounding embarrassed about it now.

He went on to tell this story about how he antagonized this one guy in the group who liked to talk the talk, but not walk the walk. A couple of times he severely hurt this guy.

"Right when I punched him....I - I don't really remember anything....but right after I was really sorry...kept begging the guy to forgive me....."

"That's interesting - " I noticed, yanked out of being horrified for a minute, "because that's what people who commit violent acts say - they can't remember the act itself-"

"Yeah! I know!" he nodded in agreement vigorously in the dark.

I thought then about my boyfriend's dad - how many times he beat his two sons while he was drunk - and if you asked him about it today - he would probably honestly not remember the act itself.

"Then there was the time I threw that tree trunk at him-" Jay cut into my thoughts.

"What?"

"Yeah..." he smacked his forhead with his hand "I still can't believe I did that...."

This story begins in the Arb - our version of Central Park - a place where any townie has hung out throughout their life growing up here.

 

Apparently Jay and his crew were gallavanting around, late in the night, completely wound up.

"And I was just standing at the top of this hill, you know....throwing * * * * around....throwing rocks and sticks up in the air and stuff.

 

And this guy was down there, running around...and he was just running...like paralell to me you know...." he went on, illustrating his actions with hand movements.

"And I saw him and picked up this old tree trunk.....but it was dead you know? It was really not heavy or anything, but it was pretty big....and I watched this guy and swung back and...just...HURLED this trunk..."

 

I watched in the dim light as he slowly arched his hands back to demonstrate his technique, my eyes widening despite myself.

 

"...and I really didn't think I was gonna hit the guy...I really didn't .....but ah...I did. I did." he laughed a little, but it was obviously laced with guilt.

"And you thought about it - it wasn't like you were gonna throw it and he ran into the spot-"

"No," he confirmed. "I wish I could say that - but no...I really thought about it...."

"So what happened?"

"He fell over..." Jay pantomimed a comic fall in the bed next to me and kind of laughed again. "but -ah _ I ran down there and was like, "Oh my god - I'm so sorry dude!"....like I always did..." a trace of something dawning on him was in his voice as he connected the dots between these events.

"I always wondered why people thought I was mean back then....but looking back on it..." he trailed off.

 

We stared at the blocks of lights that shifted against the ceiling from cars passing in the street below.

 

I thought about a time long ago when I was little, living in the apartment with my dad and Leslie.

 

Leslie was out working. She was a bartender at a Chinese restaurant.

My dad was home and we were having a fun time, joking, listening to records, wrestling.

At some point, I don't remember, we got on the subject of being scared,I think. Or what things scare you or something.

And my dad suddenly turned on me with a menacing glare and stood up great and tall and started growling like a great monster.

I laughed and stepped back.

He moved toward me in a big rush.

I squealed and jumped, laughing, but slowly getting scared.

He roared and moved forward.

"Stop!" I shouted, stepping backwards down the hall.

He kept coming, roaring like a lion.

"STOP!!" I shrieked, pressed up against the wall. His shadow blackened the corner and I shook there for what felt like a long time, but I know it was only a couple of seconds.

He was roaring and I felt like I was honestly in danger - all reason disappeared.

 

"What's the big deal?"

 

My eyes snapped open and I looked up.

My dad - the regular one - was standing there. Looking annoyed at me.

"Why did you do that?!" I shreiked.

"Oh come off it-" he snapped, "it wasn't THAT scary. What is your problem?"

 

What's MY problem???

 

 

 

 

Back in present day, drifting off to sleep in our freezing bedroom, I considered again how glad I was I had cut off ties with my father.

And technically, he never laid an abusive finger on me.

 

I still am amazed, that if I can be traumatized by that one moment, how Jay can stand the sight of his dad? And if being beaten repeatedly, really does desensitize you to viloence.....

[honeyspur]

I am currently at the radio station - presenting my weekly show. I play a variety of music, hoping to keep knowldgeable of all music that gets released.

 

Here's a sampling of what I play:

 

Bill Perry - Let me love you (blues)

Deadstring Brothers - Moonlight only knows (bluegrass)

Brad Shepik Trio - Five and Dime (jazz)

The King's Singers - Ecce vidimus eum (madrigal)

Van Hunt - Being a girl (soul)

Crepuscule - Displacer beast (goth)

Sote - Untitled (noise)

Eddy Grant - Love weself (reggae)

 

 

 

The phone rang about ten minutes into my show and I picked it up

"WCBN..." I answered.

"Hi cutie" came my boyfriend's sleepy voice.

"Hihi..."

"Are you taping your show?"

"Yep."

"Make sure you put it in the cd player - so I can listen to it on my way to work tomorrow..." he said

 

I was thinking earlier - about how long Jay and i have been involved - and how long I've kept a diary.

I've been involved with Jay for 12 years.

I've written in a diary since I was 7.

Last year, when Jay and I broke up, I read back on my diary. In it, I hardly ever wrote, unless Jay and I were fighting.

In other words, I never once wrote down anything positive.

Although we were having a lot of problems, it is a very innacurate portrayal of him to fill up a diary with negativity about him.

There's something very unbalanced about that.

I realized then, as I was staring at miserable page after miserable page, that it's no wonder we broke up. Even if things were good, you'd never know it by reading a book of my inner most thoughts.

 

That's kind of what this online journal is for. Every day my boyfriend says and does something sweet. EVERY DAY.

I hate to admit it, but I must have been taking it all for granted, because it's obvious to me now. Even on bad days, he does something nice.

As long as he is both - then it is up to me to choose which side I want to focus on - positive or negative?

 

You can hear my radio show Tuesday nights at midnight - eastern U.S time. My name is Freedom.

Here is the webpage - just click on "listen live". link removed

There is also a way to hear an archive of the show - but I'm not sure how.

 

 

Tomorrow, I'm hoping to get a chance to start my workout routine, since I stopped going to the gym. My show is a big source of energy for me.

While I'm doing it - I'm too busy setting things up to really appreciate it. But the next day, I get to listen to it and I'm always amazed, like someone else did it.

 

I've been on the radio for 12 years. In the beginning, I was co-hosting with my roomate, Anna. After about 6 years, she stopped and I started a new show. I did daytime for awhile, then switched to late night after I had a "visitor" come to my show one too many times.

I've done late night pretty much ever since - about two years.

 

it's very quiet and the studio is empty. It's ideal for concentration, and I love the fact no one calls. I'm free to do the show as I please, with no input from anyone else.

 

 

Think I spoke too soon - some people just came in. One is a guy who does the show before me. They arrived to find a particular song by Sly and the Family Stone.

The other guy, a handsome, theatrical guy, obviously a bit drunk (it is 2am) sat down and shook my hand.

"What's your name darlin'?" he said in a put on high class accent.

"Freedom."

"Rita?"

"FREEDOM."

"Ohhhh...FReeeeedom..." he drawled, sweeping his rich, black hair in a grand gesture.

"Where did you guys just come from?" I asked.

"From Kareoke!" he said, rolling his rr's.

"Oh yeah?" I said, raising an eyebrow. "what did you sing?"

 

He swept over to the console in a big flourish and grabbed one of the microphones passionately.

He began singing loudly the song (one I'd never heard of) and making grand hand gestures.

Thankfully, we were not on the air, because it was pretty awful!

 

 

They left after awhile. So much for privacy!

[honeyspur]

I got the news the other day that my Uncle Rick is going to jail for a sentance of two years.

 

A year ago, he was arrested in a child-predetor sting by the FBI.

Here is the news story from that time:

 

"Last week’s arrest was the culmination of a Yahoo! online chat room conversation that began April 21 between the man known as “slowandteasingfun” and the young girl, Kim, who was really Beaverton Det. Opitz.

Opitz posed as the girl in the “Oregon 1” chat room at about 8:29 a.m. and was soon contacted by instant message by slowandteasingfun. For the next 35 minutes, the two chatted about sex, places to meet and undergarments.

On May 4 at about noon, the two began conversing again in the same online chat room for an hour, this time getting more graphic and serious about meeting.

Two days later, the two chatted again for 40 minutes. They chatted several more times, each time the man became more graphic and descriptive about what he wanted to do when the two had sex.

During some of the chat room conversation, Harrison told the young girl that he lived near Murray and Allen in Beaverton and that he had a “friend” who really wasn’t a “girlfriend.”

He also told the girl he was 39 and his non-exclusive girlfriend was 27.

In the April 21 chat room meeting, slowandteasingfun asked the girl what she was wearing. “boxers tanktop,” was the girl’s reply. “Cute,” slowandteasingfun wrote. “I bet you look awesome in it. I wish I could see you.”

Some of the online chatting apparently took place while Harrison was working at his engineering job. At one point, slowandteasingfun bragged to the girl that he had met several women online and taken them to hotels. He also talked about his prowess and described in extreme detail things he wanted to do with the girl.

During a May 8 chat session, Opitz sent Harrison a photo of a young girl who was supposed to be Kim. It was that photo that Harrison identified as the girl he was supposed to meet when he was arrested two days later.

Although FBI agents and police detectives tried to arrange a meeting at the Beaverton Transit Center early on May 10, the man didn’t show up.

Opitz returned to the chat room and arranged another meeting, this time at the Willow Creek station, where agents and detectives found the man in the Lancer with condoms and wine coolers. "

 

 

My uncle Rick married my Aunt Annabelle back when they were fresh and young. He was a devout Christian, bordering on being a minister.

Instead he got married, had two kids and became a mediator for his church. He also had a nice job as an engineer.

 

The part that news story never covered was the fact that Rick kept a large portion of his income private. Meaning, the family lived on less than they had to. The discovery was he had spent thousands of dollars on strip clubs, websites and adult bookstores. My granny is still trying to go through all the paperwork and find out where it all went.

He also took his daughters college fund, RIGHT before she graduated from high school.

He has since paid it back.

 

I had always favored him over my other uncle, Tom and made efforts to get closer to him and the rest of the family a couple of Christmases ago.

When I went out to Portland to visit them, I picked up something odd about Rick right away. Lingering memories of past visits and strange things he said, would flash before my eyes when I would get these hunches.

 

Like the time he told his 16 year old daughter she looked "hot" in her tight shorts. The distance she walked from him as we strolled down the sidewalk. The obvious favoring of his son over his daughter.

His knowing laugh when I explained what the nickname "honeyspur" meant.

(I'm sweet like honey - but a little sassy too)

And most importantly, his distraction - this far away look - a mild discomfort on his face.

 

"Distracted?" I would say nearly every day at some point.

"Oh - hehe - just ah...thinking about work you know..." he would say.

 

And then six months later, my grandparents write an email with a link to the news story. (They also had a television story with cameras aimed at my aunt's house and neighbors telling tales of bewilderment because Rick was such a rampant Christian. They also showed, word for disgusting word, the chat he had with the "girl".)

 

At first I worried he was a victim of entrapment. But then I saw the dialogue he was having and knew there was no question. And just the fact that the "girl" said to meet him somewhere with condoms and booze, and he got in his car and went!

 

So imagine how stupid I felt, trusting this chump over my other uncle, who's actually related to me by blood.

 

And creeped out - let's not forget creeped out.

 

During the arrest last year, my mother and I started talking about my father and how he molested me - molested his sister when he was a teenager.

The conversation started out typical - her not believing it, being angry I didn't tell her at the time, trying to downsize it since I never actually had sex with my father.

But after awhile, she turned it around, hugging me, hoping I could forgive her and owning up to her responsibilty.

 

In all the research I've done on pedophilia, there is little to walk away with. And frighteningly enough, there seems to be more "pro" pedophilia sites online, than educational ones.

By "pro" I mean people who admit openly to their sexual interest in children and think it's a preference instead of a crime. They even think it should be "legalized" because gays and other minorities get their fair share, right?

 

Um.....what in THEE HELL is happening???

The only insight I've managed to get on my dad is he falls in the "split" catagory - interest in children and adults.

From my memory this makes sense because he was obsessed with his girlfriend Leslie, who was wild and kinky.

But when he was fighting with her or just feeling neglected he turned to me.

It really left me confused and shut off from everything. And I would wonder if I was supposed to want him in that way, because when he was being "normal" dad ("Go clean that room." "Get a grip - stop crying over everything" "You know better than that - speak in a kinder tone.")- he showed little interest and patience with me.

 

I guess I would turn him down - at least that's how it must have felt to him, because the first year I moved out and in with my mom, I got this awful Christmas card from him (at my gramma's house, no less!) that said, "I miss what we used to have. I have felt really ostrasized by you and the rest of the family and I want you to know I love you. Maybe we can start over.

Love,

your father."

 

I went home that night and had to ask my mom what "ostrasized" meant since I was ten years old.

 

The next year he stood me up on Father's Day. That was the last year I saw him.

 

As I grow older, the gnawing feeling that I have to confront him once more, gets stronger every day. Not for him to explain (it wouldn't be good enough anyway - he's probably one of these idiots on the "pro" ped sites)

but more so he can't make it out of this life without knowing how I feel.

I think he needs to know that he didn't get away scott free.

I KNOW what he did and he needs to hear that.

That's all. No fight - no pleading for forgiveness - no starting over.

Just his own private hell - and the knowledge that his daughter was not fooled.

I think if that's the only conversation we ever have, it will be my sweetest victory.

 

I know the powerlessness I feel is related to him. I know my mistrust of men is related to him.

My superiority complex with men, my fear of having children, getting married, being successful and worst of all - my own sexual issues - all have to do with him.

 

4 years out of my life has stayed with me all these years - but in reality it's only a small part of my life.

Intellectually I know this and get some comfort from it.

But I will not be complete - not "at rest" - until I say something to him.

[honeyspur]

I'm coming to grips with the reality that I have problems with anxiety and may possibly need medication.

I know I am always setting things up to be as stressless as possible and why I sink into depression out of nowhere. (That's how it appears to me anyway)

 

So, I'm gearing up to go see my therapist and, I suspect, get a prescription.

 

I am scared because all the people in my life who've taken meds for this have not liked them - quit - and tried dealing with it in other ways (meditation, diet, exersise).

 

I've been having a hard time with Jay lately and I feel myself losing focus.

 

I am better today. And last night I worked out for quite awhile - but got a headache because I obviously did it for too long.

 

It's been a good day on ENA though. Lot's of great advice, great folks getting the help they need.

 

 

So it's on to the later hours - the sun has gone down.

Jay hasn't come home yet. I'm not wanting to deal with his mood as it will most likely be sour since he had to work so late.

He's a maintenance guy - so his job is a bit unpredictable. They work hard labour for a regular work day - but some days they will tack on an extra job at the last minute, making it a double shift.

 

Jay has only recently (the last year) accepted that hard work is something he needs to do. Before, he was tring to cling to the strange belief he could be an invisible participant in society. Having his address kept private, not having a bank account or any credit whatsoever.

 

When I finally broke up with him last summer, he snapped back into line like a rubber band and suddenly embraced it.

Now he has credit, a bank account, a stready job and his address is listed.

 

But, like I suspected, he is losing the rush of newness he felt before.

Time has passed - things are now routine.

 

My show is tonight and I feel so awake - I know I should nap so I'm not dying by the end of it.........

[honeyspur]

Something about life and how it creeps up behind you and takes your breath away:

 

My mother is moving to Oregon to take care of my dying grandparents.

 

"I'm really torn...." she said, eyes welling up under the harsh light of the kitchen. "I just know it's the right thing to do - but I was going to be living here in town...."

 

Anna, my roomate, looked like a deer in headlights, nodding dumbly, speaking soothingly,

"It's ok - I did buy the condo to fit in my budget...I'll be ok, but it sucks I won't have roomate..." she spoke these last words with compassion and love, I knew she'd been looking forward to sharing a place with my mom.

 

But we all know Anna needs to be on her own too....not living with a 55 year old celibate, like my mom. Give me a break.

 

Anyway, funny how the universe turns things to the correct direction - no matter how great the person is, huh? I love that about the universe.

 

So - yeah. My mom won't be in town...

 

"This will be a first for us..." she says, looking at me in the kitchen.

"Except those five years..." I correct her.

"Oh yeah..." her voice comes out with realization "those years with your dad..."

 

Um, YEAH.

Remember those years I begged you through your cocaine haze to take me away from my pedophiliac father???

 

But despite my bite into my mom's ego - I choke up knowing that is why I shared my home with this woman the extra ten years I should have let her go to grow up more and for me to grow up fully.

Instead I clung to her with the illusion of us living together as equals (and we played the part fairly, I'll admit) so i could make up for those five years I missed + interest.

So I deserve my own slap on the wrist, don't I?

 

And I got choked up, while she put an arm over my shoulder and went into her plan with keeping in touch though the computer and cell phone. And since then have occasional trips to the bathroom to weep in private because it takes over in the most inaproppriate times.

I feel like I want to be strong for my mother since I know it's true - she will miss me and miss our city, the city she made a point to move to, work to afford to live in and most likely be buried in.

 

For some reason, I've been listening to XTC constantly - the album "Nonesuch". I can't really explain why except its a combination of optimism and cynicism. I guess this is the stuff of life so the record is a good soundtrack.

 

How can I be truly sad about my mother leaving when I know my Granny and Grampa will be in good care? And with all her sisters and brothers nearby in addition to that?

[honeyspur]

In my early years, through a strange dual existence of normalcy and surreality, I would go to my grandparents house, 30 minutes away, deep in the safety of an old apple orchard.

They had built their crazy ranch-style home there and raised their kids.

 

As grandparents, they apparently were different, according to my mom, and allowed the place to be my playground instead of a workplace.

 

And it's true....

 

The place was sprawling, thickly sheltered by woods and far from other homes, so I could run the through hills, singing, pretending, telling stories out loud.

 

And this was real escape. A real utopia that I could touch and feel, trees that bore fruit and hamocks nestled in brick-paved patios, walled in by eucalyptus trees.

 

Through rasberry bushes and grape vines, past vegetable gardens to peach trees and finally to the one strawberry - apple tree I would go and sit under, munching the tiny sweet apple - different from all the others. Something I had never heard of before.

 

And in the dark, winter months, when the woods hung heavy with ice and snow, glowing whitely through the big windows of the house, I would step lightly into the the kitchen and whisper with my Granny as she made me my own, tiny cup of tea with my own tiny spoon. And we would sit at the dining room table, looking out at the shiver and crunch, talking about things, perhaps playing cards, watching "The Price is right".

 

When they decided to sell the property, I was sad, but they remained calm, understanding, and allowed me to express myself until I was spent. So by the time the arrived in sunny California, it was a new adventure...modern, and still full of land....of fantastic space, deep woods and romantic memories.

 

What a gorgeous land California is. And from Sacremento, my grampa would drive us up and down and all around, making the whole state a blur of giant trees, sparkling coastlines and roller coaster car rides.

 

Going to visit the grandparents.

Oh yeah? Where will it be this time? San Francisco or San Jose?

 

A whirl of art museums, historic sites and amazing shopping waited me. Soon, one by one, each one of their kids moved out there too and raised their kids. Only my mother and uncle John remained.

 

And when they moved to Oregon, it was a slight disappointment, but not so bad - because wow - Portland is awesome!

 

So today, the family get togethers are stil rich with trips, on a lesser scale with my grandparents being so old, but they still take us on car rides to the coast, trips to the latest great restaurant and always.....the local library.

 

Some things never change.

[honeyspur]

Crap crap. Crappity crap craaaaaaaaaap.

 

Ok - my mother moving - my roomate moving - I feel like I'm not moving. Like, literally.

Like my * * * is glued to a chair most of the day now and I'm barely able to lift it.

 

I helped Anna, my roomate of 12 years move into her new condo today. She bought bottles of champagne but was too giddy to go full throttle, so we just started moving more stuff out of my house and into hers.

 

I am happy for her. My sadness is there but I feel zero physical reaction from it. Like I intellectually know I'm sad.

"You'll have to have a key," Anna said next to me as we stared at her spacious living room. "so you can come over all the time."

I can't remember what I said, but I know it was cheerful and optimistic. I knew I couldn't just start bawling on a day like today - a day for celebrating such a great achievement.

 

But I know that is why I ate like a horse today and walked about like a zombie, only getting half my chores done.

And spent the evening clinging to my boyfriend like a ragdoll, cooing sweet compliments in his ear.

 

I'm losing people I've had under my roof for more than a decade.

 

Next Friday is Good Friday, then Easter Sunday follows.

I'm hoping I have it together enough to do something special.

I have this uncontrollable urge to hole up alone with Jay since my only other roomate, Mrrranda, will probably go home to visit her folks.

 

But I've been holed up for awhile as this moving out business has been building up.

My friends are becoming a distant memory....

 

I've also been fantasizing about getting back into my workout routine and blowing it off like clockwork.

You know if you're daydreaming about jogging, your body probably trying to tell you something......

[honeyspur]

Wow - she's gone.

Just like that. All it takes is some movers and a moving truck and that's the end - kaput - finito.

 

How strange to feel happy for her and tearful that never again will we live together. I am hoping to get my family life started with my man and hopefully, Anna's own place will get her out of her shell and up her confidence.

 

I am really loving the idea of being alone here most of the day. 12 years of roomates has taken it's toll on my patience. I need to be alone now. Cripes, I was fantasizing about it for years and knew something was up when I'd go on a two-week vacation and not miss anyone.

 

Now I have the solitude I think I needed in order to come into my own, so to speak.

It's certainly the kind of advice I give people all the time - now I must follow it!

 

I guess I just feel strange - not caring if I live with people anymore. It's been such a huge part of my identity. I constructed my life around it and it brought me joy for many years.

 

I'm also afraid of the phenomenon in my life where, my needs change, but I don't recognize it until it's past due and I'm immersed in pain and anger. Then it's even harder to change! Why can't there be a timer that goes off when it's time to change? Why do we have to struggle so much?

 

It's hard not to feel like it's a waste of time. Struggle is probably about strength-building, but can't we find strength in another way? Why is it just through this ringer of anxiety and fear that we find our strength? Doesn't that seem like a cruel joke?

 

I guess if we had a timer like that - we wouldn't listen to it anyway. We get signs all the time that hint to us what we should do - but we choose to play dumb, claiming to be confused and unsure. Something comforting about being unsure. I feel it right now, just thinking about it.

It keeps you in one place, which must feel safe at certain times/circumstances.

 

Hope I continue to get better at recognizing the "hints" and taking the risks needed. I am a slave to fear like anyone else and need to get over it.

[honeyspur]

I went over to my friend Carla's last night and she made sausage pizzas and we watched these hilarious videos:

 

 

Impersonations

 

I came home around 10 at night. In my arms, I carried my two boxes of beads as I made my way into the house.

I smelled chicken and spice and could hear the stove bubbling with activity.

 

"HI-" I almost said, but instead, moved ever so slightly and one of my boxes of beads moved ever so slightly and soon beads were spilling and tumbling down the stairs to the basement........

 

ting

ting

ting ting

ting ting ting

 

ting ting ting ting ting

 

ohhhhh my goooood

 

My blood froze and my head kind of fuzzed over and I listened to the rainfall of beads....

 

tingtingtingtingtingtingtingtingtingtingtingtingtingtingtingtingtingtingtingtingtingtingtingting

 

Jay appeared out of nowhere and looked at me in the stairwell, astonished.

 

"Do you realize what just happened???" I said, staring into the basement abyss, the bead box halfway open on the stair. "Do you realize the magnitude of what just happened....?"

 

"It's ok cutie! See, most of them are still in the box..."

"No you don't realize...." I murmer, moving as if in underwater...."

He chuckles, endeared.

"It'll be fine, just start with each step, one by one..."

He vanishes.

I begin to bend over, picking up pea-sized beads of red, blue and silver - tinier beads of glass and moonstone - glints of crystal and gold winking at me as my mind begins to comprehend what's just happened....

 

80 dollars worth of flawless diamond cut sapphire beads....

60 dollars worth of pink tourmaline no bigger than a flake of oregeno...

50 dollars worth of black pearls lost in the darkness....

 

For some reason, my mind went into overload and I began sweeping them all down the stairs in hopes they would pool together, all miraculously in one place.

 

"Waitwaitwait..." Jay materialized behind me "let me help you..." he cautiously takes away the broom and begins scooping them up with his hands...

 

"Do you know how much money I just lost..." I say, picking up beads slowly.

"It's ok baby.."

"How many projects -"

"It's ok baby. You'll see them as days go by and pick up the rest..."

 

I felt like I went through a train wreck. I went up stairs and crawled under the covers, slowly snapping out of it.

 

He's right. Everything is fine. I'll lose some - but not a lot....

 

"Hey you!" Jay said, I remember..."don't fall asleep before-"

[honeyspur]

A little bit on creativity:

 

 

When I was about 7 or 8, I got really into music and records. I had rock and roll records and kid's records. I would sing to them, pretend, dance - all in my room. Sometimes I would unplug the little record player and take it outside on the back porch so I could prance around my backyard.

 

Somewhere during this time I realized that song was a form of expression a decided I should write songs. I developed a dream of being a pop star and knew I would have to write songs if I wanted to be seen.

 

My home life was terrible at this time . About the only fulfillment I got was material. We had money at this time and large, fine house with lots of land.

But family-wise, things were hurtling toward a rock bottom low and writing songs somehow made sense. I knew, inately, that I would feel better....

 

But I was only 7/8 years old.

 

And I can still see myself that day when the realization washed over me.

Jumping up and down on my bed, singing rhymes out loud - stray pieces of paper with "lyrics" on them scattered all over the floor - about kittens - about playing....

After several tries it occurred to me that I wasn't grown up. My songs wouldn't be about love and hurt - politics and nature....I didn't fully understand, but was disappointed anyway, no longer bouncing on the mattress - but laying there - deep in thought over this realization.

 

And I gave up right there and did not attempt to write lyrics again until I was 22.

 

The same realizations came with art, photography, dance....

 

It took many years of making friends, dating and good work ethic to build my confidence enough to realize practice was the only key to getting my creativity out. I had bitterly ignored it - thinking talent had to be "natural".

 

But as my curiosity grew - my inhibitions seemed to wash away - and I started trying everything I thought I could never do and one by one - I saw it was true. My appreciation for these arts was an indication of my talent - I had just given up on practicing.

 

Today it's beads.

I have a pretty huge stash and really no reason to be stumped. But the imagination is endless, isn't it? I can just keep thinking of designs that require beads I don't have and feel "stumped".

Then go out spending more money!

*LOL*

It's gotta stop!!

 

I joined a swap site in hopes to get my jewelry out there and get some feedback on it. You get paired up with someone of similar interests and swap stuff through the mail. Guess I'll be using my partner as a guinea pig in a way - LOL - but it's more than that. It's a chance for me to meet other creative minds like myself. Crafty types who like to use art to express.

[honeyspur]

After a week of crafting and beading on Swap-Bot, I finally see my mother who returns from her long trip to Oregon.

She is physically drained - having taken the train for three days.

 

I begin to feel uneasy - unable to sleep - knowing this is the last month my mom will be here.

 

This morning -

 

"Well, I started packing..." she tells me as I carry her laundry up to her room.

I turn around, and show her I'm sad.

"I know..." she says, hugging me.

 

I start to cry.

"It's gonna be hard....it's definitely strange for me too..." she says.

 

We sit on her bed, and talk....

 

She is in her robe I bought her for Christmas one year, long curly hair undone, in wild ringlets down her shoulders.

Her room was recently redone - soft sage green walls surrounded by ferns and other plants she's had for as long as I've been alive.

 

"I keep telling myself and everyone that I'm anchored here - so we all know I'm coming back. That's why I'm leaving all my furniture."

 

It's true. Her giant antique furniture is staying....

I get strange feelings of being the parent and my mom being the college student who's finally taking her first big step into the world.

Then I remember reality.

 

We are down in the dining room now - looking at my Flickr pics - link removed - and she starts telling me all the friends here that she has yet to tell about her big move.

 

"I gotta see Janice - she can't believe it..."

"She probably thought you were never gonna do it..." I say

"I don't know - but she said she was stunned in the email..."

 

Janice, my mother's long-time, boisterous, petite, chatty friend is going to give my mom an earful. After this last time seeing Janice and my mom together, I saw why their friendship has minimized since their hey-day as roomates.

Janice tells my mother exactly how it is.

 

"Ohmigod Beck - remember when we lived in the apartment and we would all be partying and you'd be like, "I gotta go to bed." and it would be like 9:00! You were such a goody-goody!"

That was a few months ago - Janice highly jacked up on her natural endorphins, eagerly telling me and the roomates embarrassing details about my mom's less than stellar party-girl technique.

 

It's true.

Back in those 8 - 9 year old days, when I'd go visit my mother on the weekends, it would be similar to my drug-saturated life at home with Dad, but Mom would get to bed by 9 and be up by 5am. I'd get breakfast and maybe some conversation before noon. She would play with me. And try and get me to do things I was supposed to do with little success.

 

But these were great improvements from home so I ignored the fact she was a cocaine addict. I ignored that all her money and love went to that those years and not to me.

 

I know my mother moving is a good thing......

 

"I'm just a sap." I said, wipining away tear after tear.

 

"No you're not- tsk! - why do you say that?"

 

"Because everything makes me cry."

 

"No..." she says firmly "crying is good."