According to Numerology (and yes, I do believe in that crap!), 2008 is both year of endings, and one of new beginnings for me. I am at the end of a 9 year cycle, and supposedly embarking on the next 9 year cycle.
Now, according to various different sources (astrology, my heart etc etc), I’m hoping to start a brand new day, and phase of my life, one that will be a little brighter, one that would allow me a little happiness, this time around. Cos, let’s be frank, the previous 9 years, sucked Donkey Dick. And I mean BIG TIME!
So far, the endings are coming fast and furious, but there ain’t no joyous sunrises, sista. Sooooo many endings, sooooo many dreams that just ….deflated, and ….ended.
They've just gone, with nothing positive to replace them. Just me, stuck with these huge gaps, like a building that’s had parts of it blown off, so you can see living rooms, and staircases that just stops, mid-air.
Its gotten so bad, I’ve taken to wondering why I even bother eating healthy, why I don’t drink, why I don’t pop a pill every day. I mean, if this is it, then what the fuck is the use?
So, I am officially requesting an ending to the endings. Or alternatively, an actual happy new beginning, for once. Jaybus C Hrist, for ONCE, just frigging ONCE! Just. Once.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Gripe d'jour
Have you ever noticed that some people get away with sliding their responsibilities off on someone else’s shoulders, their whole lives? They always manage to draw someone in, willing to carry the burden for them.
I used to be that ass, the one with the bent shoulders, for my ex. Now, he has someone else. Which I don’t get. I mean, how? How do you bluff your way through life, how do you pretend to a grown-up, and get away with it? I know, this is not supposed to matter to me, but, when he tries to make me communicate any of my son’s needs to his new ass (as in donkey, beast of burden), I get SO pissed off. The way I see it, he is the one with the responsibility toward his son, which is why he’s the one I talk to. If he, once he knows what’s going on, chooses to pass it on, and she’s willing to take it, then so be it, right? But I sure as hell ain’t making my arrangements via a third person. This way, although he still shrugs it off, and tells me he forgot, at least I have the knowledge that I did my bit. Which, in absolutely no way, makes up for the fact that he shirks every responsibility he has, but at least he knows that I know.
One thing I don’t deal with well at all, though, is the fact that we work SO hard when my son is with me, to build up his confidence, to work on his concentration, to eat right, to take the supplements. And then, he spends a weekend with his father, and everything is undone. And it takes 2 weeks to get him back on track, then he spends a weekend with his father, and it all starts again. This eternal circle from hell, for the rest of my adult life.
So, I guess what I’m griping about here, is that people who just refuse to shoulder any responsibility, always get away with it, cos they surround themselves with “enablers”, and that pisses me off. 100% of the time, they don’t even register the fact that their ‘slapgatgeit’ (lame-assedness) ripple through so many other lives, too. Lives that did not ask for it, and that do not volunteer to carry others’ burdens, too. Like my son, who didn’t ask for any of this.
I used to be that ass, the one with the bent shoulders, for my ex. Now, he has someone else. Which I don’t get. I mean, how? How do you bluff your way through life, how do you pretend to a grown-up, and get away with it? I know, this is not supposed to matter to me, but, when he tries to make me communicate any of my son’s needs to his new ass (as in donkey, beast of burden), I get SO pissed off. The way I see it, he is the one with the responsibility toward his son, which is why he’s the one I talk to. If he, once he knows what’s going on, chooses to pass it on, and she’s willing to take it, then so be it, right? But I sure as hell ain’t making my arrangements via a third person. This way, although he still shrugs it off, and tells me he forgot, at least I have the knowledge that I did my bit. Which, in absolutely no way, makes up for the fact that he shirks every responsibility he has, but at least he knows that I know.
One thing I don’t deal with well at all, though, is the fact that we work SO hard when my son is with me, to build up his confidence, to work on his concentration, to eat right, to take the supplements. And then, he spends a weekend with his father, and everything is undone. And it takes 2 weeks to get him back on track, then he spends a weekend with his father, and it all starts again. This eternal circle from hell, for the rest of my adult life.
So, I guess what I’m griping about here, is that people who just refuse to shoulder any responsibility, always get away with it, cos they surround themselves with “enablers”, and that pisses me off. 100% of the time, they don’t even register the fact that their ‘slapgatgeit’ (lame-assedness) ripple through so many other lives, too. Lives that did not ask for it, and that do not volunteer to carry others’ burdens, too. Like my son, who didn’t ask for any of this.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Significant Endings
So, yesterday I did something with a lot of significance, for me.
I undid something that was done in 2005, as a final gesture of closure. Now, I realise that I’m being pretty cryptic, but since there are people I’m keeping out of the loop, this is as specific as I’m willing to get. I have been wanting to do this for a very long time, and for different reasons. First, it was to be a gesture of Hope. Then, it became a means of ending Hope, of drawing the line under Hope, and saying: “Ok, it’s done now. These are the final figures.”
So, yesterday was sad for me.
Strangely though, today I feel relieved. Not carrying all that hopeless Hope around with me, is good.
I undid something that was done in 2005, as a final gesture of closure. Now, I realise that I’m being pretty cryptic, but since there are people I’m keeping out of the loop, this is as specific as I’m willing to get. I have been wanting to do this for a very long time, and for different reasons. First, it was to be a gesture of Hope. Then, it became a means of ending Hope, of drawing the line under Hope, and saying: “Ok, it’s done now. These are the final figures.”
So, yesterday was sad for me.
Strangely though, today I feel relieved. Not carrying all that hopeless Hope around with me, is good.
Monday, February 18, 2008
I'm grateful ....
Today, I may be feeling shitty, but I'm grateful that I am not the 30-year old, newlywed collegue that, after collapsing on Friday, is undergoing brain surgery to see whether the tumor, that fills a third of her brain cavity, can be removed.
Today, I'm thankful for life, such as it is.
Today, I'm thankful for life, such as it is.
Friday, February 15, 2008
I do! I Do! I DO believe in fairies! I do! I do! I DO believe in fairies ......
For anyone who missed it, the title is a line from "Peter Pan".
The scene in which Tinkerbelle bravely drinks poison Hook left in the "medicine" (water in a flower cup) that Wendy left for Peter, before she was kidnapped by the pirates. So, Tink drinks the poison, to save Peter's life, and slowly, her light goes out. Peter cries, and starts repeating the abovementioned mantra, until eventually, everybody in Neverland (barring most of the pirates, and Hook, of course) takes it up, and restores Tinkerbelle to her rude, obnoxious, fairy-self.
See, when you say, "There's no such thing as ...." (you know, the f-word, I'm not gonna specify, for fear of one of them dropping dead somewhere), you kill them. Cos you gotta believe, for them to keep existing. For fairy balls to take place in fairy circles, and for children to see glimpses of pretty, shiny, flying things in forests, you gotta believe.
So, even though I haven't seen it myself, I'm not gonna say .... (you know, the l-word)... doesn't exist, cos in order for people to experience love, and find love in the world, you gotta believe in it.
The scene in which Tinkerbelle bravely drinks poison Hook left in the "medicine" (water in a flower cup) that Wendy left for Peter, before she was kidnapped by the pirates. So, Tink drinks the poison, to save Peter's life, and slowly, her light goes out. Peter cries, and starts repeating the abovementioned mantra, until eventually, everybody in Neverland (barring most of the pirates, and Hook, of course) takes it up, and restores Tinkerbelle to her rude, obnoxious, fairy-self.
See, when you say, "There's no such thing as ...." (you know, the f-word, I'm not gonna specify, for fear of one of them dropping dead somewhere), you kill them. Cos you gotta believe, for them to keep existing. For fairy balls to take place in fairy circles, and for children to see glimpses of pretty, shiny, flying things in forests, you gotta believe.
So, even though I haven't seen it myself, I'm not gonna say .... (you know, the l-word)... doesn't exist, cos in order for people to experience love, and find love in the world, you gotta believe in it.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Yesterday
Yesterday, my ex kidnapped my son from school to take him to a therapist who’s name he got from a friend, without knowing what she actually does.
Yesterday, my son wrote his name, then crossed it out again and again, because he is somehow “not right”.
Yesterday, my sister told me to report my son’s teacher for letting him go with his father.
Yesterday I cried at work, twice, in the open-plan office I share with 19 people.
Yesterday was not a good day.
Yesterday, my son wrote his name, then crossed it out again and again, because he is somehow “not right”.
Yesterday, my sister told me to report my son’s teacher for letting him go with his father.
Yesterday I cried at work, twice, in the open-plan office I share with 19 people.
Yesterday was not a good day.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Terribly cheery (I'm being sarcastic)
Sometimes, I just don’t see the point. Like today. I am miserable, hate everything & everybody around me, hate everything about my life. Last night, I lay in bed, fielding my son’s kicks to the stomach and face (he’s a rough sleeper, and was in bed with me), and started wondering, what the fuck am I still doing here? I mean, WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING HERE?
Let’s see, working a dead end job for a questionable person, and an even more questionable salary. Worrying about making ends meet, every day. Trying to change my opinions about the rest of the human race to include at least SOME positive adjectives. Regretting dreams that were just never born. Fighting, each and every day, to try and make life easier for my son (dealing with a disheartened 6 year old, while being dejected myself, is no picnic), and friends …. yeah …. friends. I’ve come to the realisation that I’m better off without most of the people I call friends.
See, I’m a cheerful person, on the surface. Which apparently makes my ‘friends’ feel like they have the right to bitch and moan, but on the rare occasion that I feel the need to vent, they sit and stare into the distance with these vacant expressions, before changing the subject back to them, rather artlessly. Social isolation has a certain tranquillity to it, making the aggravation of trying to get your friends to show the same respect you do, null and void.
And men, ah men, my favourite subject. No matter how hard I try, they just keep proving my beliefs are correct. Which is not a good thing. Causal friends who find a way to turn ANY and EVERY subject and discussion into a innuendo filled, sexually suggestive torture session. And, no matter how hard I try to keep things on a platonic level, drag me down into sticky, revolting place. The image I see in my mind’s eye, is me, bound and gagged in a cave where the stalagtites drip semen onto me, running into my eyes, filling my nose, making every moment of what’s supposed to be fun, a horrid and gruesome experience. Like I’m gagging on it, and no matter how hard I try, sex is the one and only thing men see when they look at me.
Sometimes I feel like a comet, hurtling through spacewithout direction or goal, heavy enough to crush planets, moons, myself, but too light to carry everything I have heaped on myself. Nothing in every direction, nothing but time passing, with nothing to show at the end of it.
So what’s the point? Why should I be here? I honestly don’t know, and I honestly wish I wasn’t. Yes, tomorrow I’ll probably smile at you again, should you see me somewhere. But, maybe if you actually bothered to look at my eyes, you’d see that behind that smile, is a big empty nothing. The final frontier. Fuck-all. Nothing.
You have yourself a good day now, y'hear?
Let’s see, working a dead end job for a questionable person, and an even more questionable salary. Worrying about making ends meet, every day. Trying to change my opinions about the rest of the human race to include at least SOME positive adjectives. Regretting dreams that were just never born. Fighting, each and every day, to try and make life easier for my son (dealing with a disheartened 6 year old, while being dejected myself, is no picnic), and friends …. yeah …. friends. I’ve come to the realisation that I’m better off without most of the people I call friends.
See, I’m a cheerful person, on the surface. Which apparently makes my ‘friends’ feel like they have the right to bitch and moan, but on the rare occasion that I feel the need to vent, they sit and stare into the distance with these vacant expressions, before changing the subject back to them, rather artlessly. Social isolation has a certain tranquillity to it, making the aggravation of trying to get your friends to show the same respect you do, null and void.
And men, ah men, my favourite subject. No matter how hard I try, they just keep proving my beliefs are correct. Which is not a good thing. Causal friends who find a way to turn ANY and EVERY subject and discussion into a innuendo filled, sexually suggestive torture session. And, no matter how hard I try to keep things on a platonic level, drag me down into sticky, revolting place. The image I see in my mind’s eye, is me, bound and gagged in a cave where the stalagtites drip semen onto me, running into my eyes, filling my nose, making every moment of what’s supposed to be fun, a horrid and gruesome experience. Like I’m gagging on it, and no matter how hard I try, sex is the one and only thing men see when they look at me.
Sometimes I feel like a comet, hurtling through spacewithout direction or goal, heavy enough to crush planets, moons, myself, but too light to carry everything I have heaped on myself. Nothing in every direction, nothing but time passing, with nothing to show at the end of it.
So what’s the point? Why should I be here? I honestly don’t know, and I honestly wish I wasn’t. Yes, tomorrow I’ll probably smile at you again, should you see me somewhere. But, maybe if you actually bothered to look at my eyes, you’d see that behind that smile, is a big empty nothing. The final frontier. Fuck-all. Nothing.
You have yourself a good day now, y'hear?
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