Dedicated to JC

You called me from the room in your hotel
All full of romance for someone that you met
And telling me how sorry you were, leaving so soon
And that you miss me sometimes when you're alone in your room
Do I feel lonely too?

You have no right, to ask me how I feel
You have no right, to speak to me so kind
We can't go on, just holding on to time
Now that we're living seperate lives

Well I held on, to let you go
And if you lost your love for me, well you never let it show
There was no way to compromise
So now we're living living
Seperate lives

Ooh, it's so typical, love leads to isolation

So you build that wall (build that wall)

Yes, you build that wall (build that wall)
And you make it stronger

Well you have no right, to ask me how I feel
You have no right, to speak to me so kind
Some day I might find myself looking in your eyes
But for now, we'll go on living seperate lives
Yes, for now, we'll go on living seperate lives

Seperate lives - Phil Collins

Did it.

I did it. This is what I e-mailed back:

I’ll be honest: I am quiet because I don’t like missing you so much. I was just getting used to not seeing you any more, then you came to visit, and now it’s like before. So, the less contact we have, the easier it is for me to get used to you not being around. It sounds silly, I know. You’d think, I’d have gotten over that by now.

So, now we wait for his reply, IF he replies. I feel better, small step, but hopefully a meaningful one.

Yay for me!

Courage baby, courage!

E-mail from JC this morning. He wants to know why I'm so quiet. And, since I promised to be honest next time we had contact, I still want to be, I just need a little time to get the courage up. I'll let you know how it went.

Griping, again!

Please, know right from the start of this, that I am not a vain person. That said, I attract a lot of attention. I'm not really sure why, I think it's the whole blonde-blue-eyed-curves-in-the-right-places-thing. Whatever the reason, I have always found this very, very unpleasant, pretty much since I noticed it. Thing is, I don't know why, I mean I can rationalise my anger any way I want to, and I have some pretty good arguments, but in the end, it makes no sense.

My first reaction when I find a man staring at me, is to tell him to fuck off, while smiling nicely. I don't, of course, but the feeling stays. Or if someone makes remarks in the street, it gets me steaming, and it's just the 18-years of being told to be nice, that stops me rounding on them, and telling them exactly what I think of the prehistoric behaviour. Men always seem to find me "something" to have a pissing contest over. "Oh, I could bend that over my desk reeeeeaaal good!", or "that ass is just asking for it!" the list is endless. It's gotten to the point, that I never take compliments seriously, whether they are sincere and nice, or one of the not so subtle variety. Now, my confidante (my mom) and I have discussed this endlessly. Do I have a reason for my aggressive reaction? I don't know. What I do know is that this is a way men show appreciation, and they are visually-inclined creatures. So, technically, I should view the rude comments, gestures, tongues hanging out, whistles, unwelcome approaches etc etc as compliments.

Antoher thing that bugs the crap out of me, and I think most of the single females who hang out with couples a lot, will be able to relate: You arrive at a braai (barbeque) and the moment you enter the room, every wife, girlfriend, significant other, grabs her man by the arm. Or talks louder, or puts her hand on his back, tries to stake her claim, and get his attention in one way or the other. I have had women shove into some pretty small spaces just to avoid me standing next to their boyfriends, or husbands. I have never, ever, ever-ever-ever given ANY woman reason to see me as a threat to her relationship. And since these are usually people that I at least consider casual friends, the fact that people who supposedly know me, reacts like this, drives me up the wall. They should know better.

And the gossip! Oh my lord, if I only I'd done 10% of the things I've been accused of, my god! I would be one hell of an expert in bed! And, the ratio of men who spread rumours actually match the women! Currently, my list of lovers has a total of 3 names on it. Not counting the one-night stand, since I don't consider him a lover. Compared to the stories circulating, you could probably multiply that at least 10 times, should you be a gossip-believer.

My point is, I have allowed other people's insecurities to get to me, I react angrily to compliments, I don't go out with my friends who happen to be part of a couple, and in general don't trust any comments about my appearance. I tone down what I wear, so as not to be too noticeable. I find that I dress in something I like, and when I see how it shows off my curves, I feel like I look vulgar, or like I'm inviting the reactions I get, and change into something less flattering. Which is silly, if my appearance makes other people uncomfortable, it's not my problem really, is it? Other women I see on a daily basis dress a helluva lot more provocatively than I do, yet I'm the one who gets the dirty looks, remarks and gossip.

I've kinda resolved to work on that, to not make other people's insecurities my own. This will be a hard one, though. I am not a heartless, black-widow bitch out to snare anything with a penis just to prove I can, and the fact that some people would have everybody believe that, actually hurts, I don't enjoy making people uncomfortable. As a matter of fact, I go out of my way not to. Which is something that might end soon, so to all those people out there who find me ...... whatever ...... Deal with it! In future, I WILL wear that low-cut top, and that short skirt, cos I can! If everybody else can, so-the-fuck-can-I! So just swallow that forked tongue before you bite yourself while grinding your teeth, and deal with it, darlin!

Cherries; cos they make me feel better.

Mornings & Evenings

I am still feeling like crap. Like I am that internal waterfall, outside smooth and calm, while inside the waters are wearing the surface smooth, and thundering into deep pools, way down in the dark parts of me. I want to cry, and cry, and cry.

Old and jaded, I look at other people and think: "Why are they smiling? What do they have that I don't, that enables them to laugh? What possibilities do they see in this day, or the future, that makes them happy?"

My life has been reduced to an endless string of mornings and evenings. Get up, wake Misha, feed Misa, dress Misha, take Misha to school. The hours inbetween disappear, they are meaningless. Leave work, pick up Misha, feed Misha, bathe Misha, get Misha in bed, read to Misha. Sleep. This is what my life is, nothing more. And, don't get me wrong, I adore my son, but the since Mom is not all I am, it feels like the rest is shrivelling up, and soon it'll blow away.

Feels like I'm looking out of an empty dusty field where I'm standing alone, into a beautiful forest, full of love and possibilities, and I know I'm not allowed in there.

I am less than I started out as, parts of me are lost, or just expired cos they were never used. Diminished, smaller, not whole. I cannot hold everything I'm supposed to.

I have been boiled down to a useless puddle of syrup in the middle of the pan. Destined to be the mom to a son who "is too busy" too loud, too headstrong, too too too. He will forever be "TOO" in some way. That's who he is, forever and ever, amen. But since that's not usual, he's also destined to be made to feel abnormal, forever and ever, amen. And no amount of loving on my side, can ever fix that. That hurts. Knowing how unforgiving "normal" people are, I hurt for my son's sake, and wish I could somehow shield him from the cruelty waiting around the corner. And since this is the one and only purpose left at the moment, and I have no way of preventing it, what is left over?

I used to know that I'm a good mom, these days I'm not so sure. These days I wonder whether he wouldn't be better off without me. These days I'm wondering who'd notice if I just disappeared, and the list is pitiful. My mom, my son, my animals, and after a few days, my boss. Very replaceable, I am invisible, I am taking up space in a crowded world, without any redeeming qualities that could justify me being here. All the dreams and visions I had, of the difference I would make, of the people I would love, of the hurts I would soothe, the way I would makes lives better.

Now and for the future I can see, there's mornings and evenings. And waiting for the world to win, there's no more fight left. I'm tired.