Loca

What have I done?

The worst sound in the world is the sound of someone you love crying. Crying over something you said or did. It slices my soul.

Is there a difference between love and in love?

Is it too late? I loved deeply, wholly, for all these years and now...now you want to love me like that?

Tempted to say fuck it and walk away from it all. But that is me...avoiding the conflict. Here and now, I have decided. I've planted my feet and will face what I have started head on without backing down.

Maybe you are right. Maybe I can leave all that pain in the past...but tell me, will these scars fade?

I hate this, all of this.

They're coming to take me away, ha ha

I swear I'm not insane...maybe a little psychotic though.

Set the scene...

Driving one of my roomies to his GED class in an old S-10, my brain was infiltrated by old TV show theme songs.

Me: (Humming then abruptly stopping when I realize what I'm humming.) Oh my God! I'm humming the "Mr. Ed" theme.

RS: (Laughing) hmmm...

Me: I have no idea why this shit pops in my head.

RS: (He makes some kind of grunting noise that makes me want to hurl.) hmmm...

Me: Maybe its a warning. Maybe there will be a horse in the road or something.

RS: (shrugs) Maybe. Hmmm....

Me: But if it starts talking to us, I'm pushing you out the door and saving myself.

RS: (Laughing so hard, he starts gagging and hacking.)

Me: (Thinking that he really doesn't know that I'm NOT joking.) *singing* A horse is a horse... Maybe if I sing it, it will get the hell out of my head.

RS: (grunt) hmmm...

Me: (thinking that he needs more than just a GED class. Is grunting all he can do?) *humming the theme from "Lone Ranger"* Jeez! What is with my head today. Isn't there something better than TV tunes that can get stuck in there?

RS: hmmm....

Me: (Thinking he is stuck in the caveman days when all they did was grunt.) I know what it is. This fucking headache has got my brain in some kind of retro geek-ville. I didn't even watch those damn shows. *humming another tune from another old western show* At least its not that damn "Delilah" song. I hate that fucking song.

RS: Oh, that "Hey there Delilah" song?

Me: (Oh shit! He knows a few words. Paranoid that he speaks, I search the upcoming roads for a talking horse.) Uh huh.

Now guess what is stuck in my head....hmph.

Ut oh...

I have one of those crippling migraines today. The kind where little movements, sudden light changes, and whispering noises are excruciating. Yeah, one of those. I hate them because it makes me feel like my brain is mush. It makes me feel like my head is caving. Arrgh.

In the news...I just found out that my ex sister-in-law has moved into my neighborhood. Actually, she is just a few streets away. I'm torn over this. I really like her but I know what her loyalty to her brother is and a little part of me feels like I can't just hang out with her and be myself because she will be reporting my every move back to him.

No, I'm not just being paranoid. My ex is my stalker. Truthfully. Stupidly on my part, when he friended me on facebook, I accepted. Big mistake. He is now friends with every friend I have on there...even the ones he doesn't know or claimed to have hated when he knew them. My friend KC is a good example of this. (Why the hell did you accept, KC?)

He has been my shadow since our divorce over 9 years ago. Somehow, he has known everything I've done right when I was doing it. My guess is that he questions my family. I know my mom wouldn't breathe a word to him (even though she feels he is some kind of bodyguard for me) but I know my brother would tell him whatever he wanted to know.

The ex is always in my business. Always. And all my attempts to shut him out have failed. It pisses J off but she knows that it is none of my doing. Hell, it pisses me off too. It will be worse if his sister is right down the road from me. Not only will he be able to ask her what I've been up to (very small town, remember) but this also means he will be visiting. He's not a person I want in my neighborhood. Although he tries to pretend otherwise, I know that he still holds a grudge against J. I don't feel safe knowing that he could be lurking around watching me. He used to lurk around my house when I lived in Florida. Yeah, its freaky when you see your ex driving down your street in the middle of the night with no lights on and your outside walking the dog.

J is not tough and he is triple her size anyway. After 12 years and some pretty physical fights with him, I'm sure I could hold my own for a little while. (I know his weak spots.) But one punch from him and J would be broken. (Some butch I've got, huh.)

I guess I will just have to wait and see how it all plays out. I'll talk with his sister and if I feel she is going to be a problem, I will do my best to stay clear of her.

Now I have to talk to J and tell her what is going on. Not fun.

torn

We have these friends. Straight friends. They are pretty fun to hang out with most of the time. Well, all of the time as long as they are not fighting. They are both short little shits...he maybe hits 5'3" and she is about 5'1". They make a really cute couple.

She is funny. Its hard to catch her without a huge smile on her face. And she is sweet, in an innocent kind of way. But from experience I know...she's not so innocent.

He tries to be funny. He breaks through every once in a while but not often. He is a little too much of a know-it-all and him and I clash sometimes. But it never gets out of hand. We are just opposites really. I love the Dolphins...he's a Bills fan. Rivals in the biggest way. Its usually just little stuff like that.

Thing is...he is a Pisces. I'm Sagittarius. There are only a select few...a very select few...Pisces that I actually get along with. (I was with one for 12 years and hated almost every minute of it.) I'm pretty sure thats why we clash so much.

There is one thing that bothers me about him that could very well get out of hand. He is a cheater. Its more than obvious to the outsiders in their relationship. There have been occasions where we have seen him around town with other girls.

For some reason, he seems to think that I'm one of his buds. He seems to talk to me much more than he ever has talked with J. And when he talks, he talks too much. Tonight, we were talking about movie directors (clashing) and out of the blue he started talking about how he and some of his guy friends were calling escorts. And why do I need to know this?

We spotted him one day in the next city over with some girl in his car. He was going one way and we were going the other. He knew we saw him because he waved at us. Later that night, he called and asked if it was us that he seen saying that he was giving his "boss" a ride to work. Bullshit. Once we were riding in his car and the windows fogged up a bit as we were driving. I noticed writing on the window. It said, "Love you, Bob. Love Estell." Stupidly, I pointed it out to him and he made some bullshit story up about how the girl must have ridden in the car before he bought it but couldn't explain his name. I should have just kept my mouth shut and let his girlfriend find it.

I'm not a cheater. I have never cheated on anyone I have ever been with. Its just not my thing. As much as I hate knowing that he is cheating on his girlfriend, I really don't think its my place to say anything. I mean, they have been together for a few years and for all I know, she cheats too. I really don't think so but if she does, she is damn good at hiding it. This town is real small. Its hard to sneeze without everyone knowing.

Anyway. I was wondering, tonight, if he tells me these things to see if I run off and tell his girl. Or maybe he tells me these things to try to cover his ass or something because he always makes it sound like its just his friends doing it and he just watches. One thing that really bothered me about tonight was the way he was talking about this escort. He had that blank look in his eyes like he was picturing what he was saying...how, "she was so damn hot. I'd be more than happy to pay $200 an hour for that. The things I would do..."

I was more than a little disgusted. But I still don't know if I should be telling his girlfriend what a scumbag he is or not. (God knows I really want to.)

So yeah...that was my night...hmph.

This means war

My time on the computer has been limited. Thanks to my wonderful, loving girlfriend. Yes...I blame her for my lack of posts.

See, I have been wanting to upgrade my computer. Honestly, I'm tired of Microsoft and Windows and all that. I have decided to switch to Mac. J and I talked it over and agreed it was the right thing to do for what I had in mind for it. I know that sounds cryptic but its the way it will have to stay.

So we agreed. And I gave my old computer away. Yes...it is gone since Christmas and I still don't have my Mac. Why? you ask. Because J is the biggest and worst procrastinator.

It actually drives me nuts. She is like this with everything and honestly, it is starting to piss me off. And what is worse...I can't tell her that its pissing me off. Because, really, I don't do pissed...EVER! If I told her she was actually making me mad she would most likely laugh, thinking that I was telling her a joke. I can see these things and I know her well.

And here I am at 10:30 at night, finally getting my time on the computer.

And I am pissed!

Change...

I'm thinking about given this blogger a face lift.
Honestly, this brown thing doesn't seem like me at all. And the ones they give you to choose from...suck. So I am on a mission. New layout or bust.

In other news...
I am about to head out of town again. Tennessee bound. Yeah, I know I was just there. But this time, my mom will be there. I haven't seen her since my surgery back in July/August.

LMAO...J just sang happy birthday to me in a Rugrats voice.

Anyhow, fair warning...a change is gonna come!

A little truth

I think I've finally gotten rid of my hangover. Finally. Now I remember why I hate drinking.

My friends over at the CLC have been doing their best to make me feel God-awful guilty about leaving them. There is more than a few reasons I left Florida and they know this but I guess an explanation is in order so anyone else can understand.

It is true...stress can kill. And my philosophy is when things are no longer easy, its time to find something new. Running a business from a cell phone that never -NEVER - stops ringing, ridiculous time restraints, traffic jams, and chasing money got to me. Things started to crumble and inside I was a wreck.

Its funny...when I was going through all that shit, my family and friends (not the CLC girls) still called me and unloaded all their problems. And the entire time, I was on the verge of a rageful relapse into the darkness I used to call life. And when I tried to explain, "Hey, you really think you have fucking problems? I've got overhead that weighs more than the world and a partner who has given up," they didn't seem to care.

Hell, I know I could have saved it all but I couldn't breathe anymore. I felt sick all the time and so tired but I could never sleep. My head was endless chatter of what needs to be done and what I really wanted to do. And in the end, I chose to do what I wanted to do...get out.

My family was driving me nuts, unloading all kinds of responsibilities on me that were never mine. My brother's drug problem, my mom's money situation, and my dad's absence all of a sudden became, "You have to do something, B." My nieces well being all of a sudden became, "They need a better home life...do something." And certain friends became my responsibility too. Those two in the morning phone calls like I was a suicide hot line became, "B, I'm in my truck and I'm driving straight for the wall at full speed and I know you can save me. Only you know what to say, do, think...and you will save me."

But I'm nobodies savior really. I couldn't deal. And the solutions I came up with, nobody listened to anyway. "Baker Act the fuck up." Or, "Tell your husband to stop wasting the money and to get a real job since he fucking pissed away your retirement on shit that he didn't want or need." And my nieces, God bless those beautiful little girls, "Leave him. Get a job. They are your kids too. Only you can make their life any better." And, "Stop fucking around with straight chicks! Dyke up already. You know they only break your heart."

And the end results. He is still an addict and a loser. He quit his job and now sits on the computer all day, jacking off to porn. (This one has partially worked out.) She got a job and left him but moved those girls into a house full of old drunk, drugged out sorry excuses for women. And she is still dating straight chicks and getting her heart broken. Its nil.

So I left and they chased me down through my phone. I shut off the phone and they chased me down on the computer. So I stopped checking my email. It is about time they all learned to live without me to step on, run to, expect a miracle from. It was all too much to ask for. I had a life, a house, a business, vehicles, a great relationship, and I let all that stress and pressure almost kill me. I walked out and away with the only thing I could salvage...my girl (and I almost lost that too.)

I'm finally back to good and there is no way in hell that I'm chancing what I have now. This is MY life now and I'm not going to show any of you how to live yours anymore. Live and learn...that's how everyone else does it. I know it all sounds selfish but dammit! I lived with all their shit all my fucking life. I know I deserve to be happy and healthy and to live without their problems.

(Dimes, baby. I love you and really this rant has nothing to do with what you said (its Starr). I love you and miss you like mad too. But really, guys...am I not better now? You really don't want me to go back to being the way I was before I left, do you? Starr...ease up on the guilt shit, please. I need to do this for me. For me and J. She is everything to me and you know that. You know where I'm at and you know that whenever you want you can jump on a plane and be here in less than three hours. You have the means to do that and I know you could bring all the girls if you wanted to. I miss you guys but I don't miss the life and I can't go back now. Ease up on the guilt and show me some understanding, please. And you are making me say it...or else.)

Revisting the cryptic

I just don't like you. It is that fucking simple.

And I don't think you are funny and your voice is annoying. And I know you just keep talking so you can hear yourself.

And you, you are a thief and a liar. Stop trying to be my buddy because I will just keep walking away. You stole from me more than once and you lied even more times. So fuck you and just stay the fuck away.

More tales from the Cryptic

I want more.

It will always be this way.

You know this.

Welcome to the Cryptic

So, yesterday...all my positive thinking and such came to a crashing halt against a steel wall and fell to pieces. Those pieces then went through the shredder.

At the moment, I'm teetering on the edge of saying fuck the world a vanishing. Maybe a road trip is just what I need. Maybe not.

This has to be said...

When you asked me yesterday, you deserved an honest answer.

Sorry, but I lied when I said, "Of course not."

Truth is I've been thinking about it for a very long time and it hurts like hell to admit that, even if I know you will never read this.

I'm thinking that I blame you somewhere for everything. I'm wrong and I know this, but I can't shake it.

Please don't make me HATE!

Thoughts creeping

I think last night is the first night in a very long time that I actually slept through it without waking up a million times and checking the clock to see if it was a good time to wake up.

Dreamers never sleep.

And when I woke up this morning, I felt like I had been in a coma or something. It was very strange. I didn't even have any dreams to tell J about over our normal morning talks. (Truth...it wasn't really morning anymore.) But J had a dream that was odd enough for both of us to ponder.

But I did remember some of my thoughts before I fell asleep. Sorry if they are a little cryptic but I know who and what they are about.

I told you once that I loved you. I meant it but I no longer feel it. So don't find me and then hide from me. I won't chase you. Because, really, I. Don't .Care.

Maybe there are alternate universes. I find it very hard to believe that in the infinite space, Earth is the only planet that could support life. But...I don't really want to think about it anymore.

The character has to fall in love with her because...I said so. Its my imagination anyway.

It was cool that he found me but did he have to show me the picture of her. I hadn't thought about her in a long time so I thought her ghost had finally set me free. Man, was I wrong.

I wonder if I can will J to turn down the music. Oh, wait! That's The Runaways. "Babe, turn that up, please."

Singing Queens of Noise. "Stop, look, listen to my heartbeat." Man, I haven't heard this song in years.

Cool. Songs over. Maybe she will turn it down....wait. That's Tool. "Why can't we not be sober..."

God, I think I might have asked that same question a million times back then.

It's too light in here to sleep.

[I was wrong. That was my last thought.]

The vent is over

It felt kind of good to get all that family shit out, even if it was just writing it in here. I think, though, that I will send a little letter in my dad's father's day card and as soon as I get the address for my brothers jail cell, I'll send him something too. I've pretty much explained my moms letter with her. And our last phone conversation was much better than any of the rest. Maybe she finally gets it. I hope.

J has been amazing. I hate anger, I really do feel it is a waste of energy, but I let it get the best of me last week. From the guilt trips my mother was trying to send me on to the heartbreak over my brothers relapse and the fact that my dad is so fucking arrogant and careless about the whole matter, I was not in a pretty mood.

So, yesterday, J and I drove over to Helen. We ate at the only fast food place there is and people watched. Tourists are funny. We checked out a few of the shops and J tried to convince me to buy this rebel flag bikini. Then we drove around watching the tubers float down the river. It's been a long time since I laughed that hard. I think the funniest was a boy that somehow got tangled in a tree that had fallen in the river. If you could have seen his face. Good times and just what I needed, like usual. She always knows.

I will have another installment of "Back Then" soon. Its getting to the part that I still stand back and ask myself, "What the fuck where you thinking?" I'm feeling like writing, so maybe I write it later tonight. Maybe.

Letter to Bro...life or death?

LAST ONE, I PROMISE, AND THEN BACK TO THE REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOGGER.

Bro,

I had the worst dream the other night. I woke up in a panicked fear thinking that something had happened to you. That feeling stayed with me all day until I was finally able to speak with Mom. She said you were fine but that earlier in the week you had to go to the ER because of dehydration. Even after I spoke with you on the phone, I felt something was still wrong.

And I was right, wasn't I. You didn't want to tell me that you relapsed again.

We were close. As close as siblings could ever be. Hell, we were closer than most twins. But that all changed.
I'm not sure if it changed when you started drugs or when I started dating "him" or even when I came "out." All I know is that things haven't been the same between us in a long while.

There was hope, after you got over the anger of me being gay, and we actually started getting back to good with each other. But you were so deep in your addiction that I couldn't watch anymore. I couldn't stand by while you took that deadly journey that I escaped from. I confronted you, argued, fought, and at one point...threatened you with a golf club. You had no idea who you were, so fucking high, and no idea who you were fighting. Although you were bigger than me, I never backed down...I swung back and brought you down. And when you cried, I thought you had finally seen what you were doing to yourself, to your three little girls, to your wife, and to your family.

God, I fought so fucking hard for you. I walked you through the withdrawals, holding your hand and feeling your pain. And you had me fooled for a while. I think you had us all fooled.

But that addiction came back with a vengeance. It killed me every time I would wake to the phone ringing at 3am with you on the other end pulling the trigger on that gun. I flinched with every click. I flinched with every deep breath I'd hear. In the background, I would hear Trish crying and pleading with you and I was so afraid those girls were up, watching their daddy hold that damn gun to his head.

Mom wouldn't let me Baker Act you. That so pissed me off. Your wife and kids did not need to see that shit. Do you know the damage you have done to those kids? I nearly fell apart the day your oldest, Jade, told me how she found daddy sleeping in the bathroom, bleeding with a needle stuck in him. I was tempted to kill you myself. And GOD! What if one of your daughters found one of those fucking needles and tried to do what daddy was doing!? Fucking insane!

I'm the one that convinced Trish to leave you. I had to, for my nieces sakes. Do you know how many times Trish (and Mom too) called me up crying, begging for me to do something? How many times I chased you down for her? And all those times, I was sure I would find you dead. I think I've been preparing for your death since the first time you relapsed. God, that hurts!

It hurts because you were my little bro. You were my closest, best friend. You were the only guy I had ever trusted. You were everything I lived for, for such a long time. You were the one I tried to set examples for. I pushed to succeed for YOU. How many twenty year olds own their own businesses and houses? I had to show you that anything was possible. I had to show you that there was so much more to our lives than our fucked up childhood. Because you were my little bro and you meant everything to me.

Then I got that call. The call I had been dreading but preparing for. The call that said you had really tried to die. The call that I was sure was going to say that you were dead. But you weren't, thank God.

And I cried for you...every night.

And they offered you the best help and the best chance for you to recover. I urged you to take it. I begged you to take it. But you didn't. You assured me that you were strong enough but I knew better. You surprised me by making it five months. But this happy ending came to a crashing halt when I got the phone call that you were in jail.

Your birthday was yesterday. I celebrated by seeing your mug shot online. How fucking high were you? Has the drugs worn off yet so that you realize where you are?

Mom says its Dad's fault. Dad says its Mom's fault. I say its YOUR fault.

I've been there for you. We all have. I've spent tens of thousands of dollars trying to help you. I've sacrificed and put it all on the line for you. I've taken the blame. I've cleaned up your messes. I've cried with your children. I've held them while they spilled their worries on me. They shouldn't have to worry about you. They are fucking KIDS!

I can't do this anymore. I can't watch you kill yourself any longer. I hope you stay in jail. I hope that they can give you the help that none of your family could. I don't want you to die, bro. I love you too much. And your girls need a dad. They need you. Its time for you to fix yourself because, really, I think you are just an injection away from death.

Please tell me that you really don't want to die?

Letter to Mom-its only fair

Because neither of them should be off the hook here...

To Mom,

You call me your angel. Your beautiful independent angel...if you only knew.

I'm independent because I've always had to be. And I'm an angel because I hid all the bad from you so that you wouldn't have another nervous breakdown. Yeah...I'm that kind of angel. Maybe you should call me your magician. Because I always find some how to make it all disappear. Not this time.

You are not so innocent even though I always make you out to be. You see, ever since I can remember, you have given my brother everything he has ever asked for. You have made him so dependant on you that he EXPECTS you to pay his bills, take care of his kids, and pretty much wipe his ass. I know it sounds harsh, and I've told you to cut him off a million times but you always give me the same excuse. "I can't let my grand kids go without."

I understand that. But my brother is not your grand kid. He is a leech that is sucking all of your retirement money out of your pockets. Every time you call me, you remind me of this. And I'm glad you are finally angry. You should have been angry at him from the first time he fucked up. From the first time he called you from jail, crying. You should have hung up. (Did you ever think that if you left him in there the first time that maybe he would have gotten the help he needed...way back then?)

And its true...I have never asked you for one single thing. No money, no free housing, nothing. Even when my life fell apart and turned to ash, I didn't ask you for help. Even if you weren't supporting my brother, his wife, and three kids...I still wouldn't have asked. The worst part...if I would have asked, you wouldn't have heard me anyway. Hell, no one heard me because you were all too busy unloading all of your problems on me.

I don't mind you calling me to vent. But when you try to tell me that its my responsibility to tell my father how big of a piece of shit he is, I think you are wrong. I didn't marry him. I didn't breed with him. And my brother has a voice of his own. And so do you. I know you hate him, so does he, but if you really want to tell him how bad he fucked up his sons life, don't go through me. You tell him or let my brother tell him but don't tell me that I HAVE to tell him.

You really want to know the truth behind me moving 700 miles away...I had to get away from all of you. You all drive me crazy. From your complaints about supporting my brother and having no money, to my brothers middle of the night calls of suicide threats, all the way to the blame game between you and my dad. I had to get as far away as I could for my own sanity. It only half worked. All the drama and craziness followed me through the phone lines. But at least its not constant.

Truth is...dad isn't to blame for Bud. You aren't to blame for him either. I know, for sure, that its not my fault. The only one to blame for his actions is HIM. He is the soul creator of his universe. He is responsible for his decisions. He's weak. And that has nothing to do with any of us.

So please...stop complaining that its ALL my dads fault. And stop telling me what I need to do about it. Because I'm not doing it this time. Its not my turn to fight my brothers battles. All of you need to learn to speak for yourselves because I just lost my voice.

Fair warning...if you bail him out this time, I'll wash my hands of all of you. Its only fair.

Letter to Dad...did you forget?

This is a bit personal and it stings...but it needs to be said.

To dad...

Once...you were my world. I looked up to you. I wanted to be just like you. Me, your oldest daughter...yeah, once.

It took a long time for me to let you back into my life. I had to come to terms with the fact that you were not a father but just a dad. And all those things you DID and didn't do, I had to bury. But I never forgot. How could I?

Me and my brother, your oldest son, have suffered the most from your lack of love - that bruise and grip around my neck that I can no longer see but still feel and all those un-returned phone calls that my brother is STILL waiting on. And although I have moved on and let it all go, my brother still waits, still needs that damn phone call from you.

Ha! For the longest time, I blamed myself. Because after you left, I, only ten years old, had to raise him while our mom worked her ass off to support us. Because you forgot that we were your blood, that we were your kids...even if you hated me for telling.
I learned, real fast, to be a DAD and a MOM to your SON. FUCK...it was me that taught him to play football and baseball, how to ride his bike and skateboard, how to respect, and how and when to fight.

Hmph...it should have been YOU.

And when his life began to fall apart as I was trying to fix mine, I thought I had failed.
He put up a wall and shut us, me and Mom, out after you hurt him for the millionth time. All he wanted was for you to be proud of him, for you to come see him at his football game. The first game that he was on the starting lineup. (We, he practiced so hard for that position.) But you let him down again.

He needed you to teach him to be a man but you were never a man yourself.

I watched him change from a fun loving boy to an out of control nightmare and I didn't know what to do. Before I knew it, he was diving into the world of gangs and drugs (my world that I hid so well) that I tried so hard to keep him away from. But I failed. Even though it was your fault.

Recently - when he needed you the most - you forgot, AGAIN, that he was your son. Your flesh and blood, your namesake. Do you realize that he wanted to DIE? That he took an unimaginable amount of drugs and tried to drown himself? Because of his depression caused by your rejection. Because he feared that he was becoming YOU. Do you care?

And as he fought to stay clean, to recover, he STILL waited for your call. Man, all you had to do was be his dad. He didn't want your money. He didn't want your undivided attention. He just wanted you to be a dad.

When you finally did call (after I begged and pleaded) you made him promises. Promises to spend time with him. Camping, fishing, riding, or just hanging it out. I actually saw a positive change in him and was sure he would pull through.

But you broke every promise you made - AGAIN.

Now, he's drowning, deep in his addiction and last night, he was arrested. And I'm scared that when he gets out, he'll try to die again.

And I thought...maybe it was my fault. Begging you to be a part of his life again when I knew you would just shatter him like always. Knowing that you would forget - AGAIN - that he was your first son.

But its not my fault and I refuse to take the blame for your fuck ups anymore. I'm tired of making excuses for you. Tired of pretending that you are a dad. Sadly, I ache for the youngest of my siblings. They still have no idea who you really are. But me, Bud, and Lise know you too well. And we know what's in store for them. All the pain and emptiness that you caused. The reason my brother can't stay clean and is a shitty father. The reason Lise has been on her own since she was ten. The reason I have a steel wall that I won't let anyone through, the reason I trust NO man.

Lets see where you are when they need you.

Because when my brother was so low down and ready to die, he called ME. When Lise couldn't stand the the come-on's from her step father anymore, she called ME. But Luke and Em, they don't know me. I'm thinking that its best that way. The next kid I raise will be my own.

You are not worthy of being called a father...not even dad.

So don't, I mean DON"T, call me and tell me how Luke lost his first tooth. I don't want to hear about his karate classes and how he's doing in school. It hurts because Bud deserved that kind of attention from you. And don't call me to tell me what Em has said that made you laugh. Or how she sings like me. It hurts because Lise deserved that kind of attention from you. I gave up on you a long, long time ago...so don't, DON"T worry about me. Not like you ever really did anyway. And of course, I'll clean up the mess you made of all of our lives, like usual.

But don't you EVER call yourself our dad.

Bitchin'

I'm feeling like...a run on sentence rant (my myspace followers love these *shrugs*)

My head is heavy and clouded because I'm fighting this pain that doesn't seem to want to subside and, although I've tried every old remedy I could think of, nothing is working, so it's got me on the edge of taking a hammer to the pain to give it something to really hurt for or trying to calm it enough so I can fall asleep but I'm not sure either would work anyway and the idea of the hammer is starting to scare me but it was a lot better than my other thoughts which I will never share because, if they scare J, I could only imagine what the one's who read this would think, hell...it probably wouldn't be a good idea to admit any of them anyway.

At least this one made a little sense.

Maybe, one day, I'll post a "Best of" post on these weird rants. Because, I know I have many more that are much better than this one...but my tooth hurts dammit!

Enough bitchin'

Confusion...why now?

What do you want? And why now?

Its been years since I thought of you. Years since we lost touch. Years.
But here you are. In my dreams. Every night for the past two weeks and I don't understand.
Even in my dreams, you are the same as you were back then. Flirting and touching. Keeping me right on the edge of wanting you so bad that it hurt. You're demanding all of my attention again and I don't want to give it to you. I don't want to give in to you. I can't do it.

All this time has passed...so what the hell do you want?

Do you remember how you cried when I told you I was going to marry him? Do you remember how you begged me not to? And when I asked you why, you shied away. Even after I said for you I wouldn't. You wouldn't admit it then and I know you won't admit it now.

And those few years that went by, when we didn't speak, I looked for you. I looked everywhere. I even went to your fathers house, hoping to God that I would have one more chance to tell you what you had meant to me back then. Time went by and then you found me. You found me when I was already in love with her. A love so unbelievable that it made what we had look like a joke. You wouldn't see me, but I knew you wanted to. I knew I had to see you. I had to let you know once and for all what I felt for you.

You made me tell you over the phone. And I confessed that I loved you then. That all you had to do was say the word and I would have never married him. I would have been with you. Would have. But everything happens for a reason and I know now that we were never meant to be.

Was it fear of acceptance that kept you away? I know you loved me. Hell, your own brother was gay and out. But you held me at an arms length away, pulling when you wanted and pushing when you didn't. I wasn't your toy then and I refuse to be now.

So stay out of my dreams. Because I don't understand. And if you are upset because I'm happy without you...GOOD. Because I have no regrets and wouldn't change a thing.

Relentless

J and I had a debate last night that threatened to drive me to drinking.

For the record...I really don't care either way but...
J thinks that the landing on the moon was faked. She claims that it was all filmed in some kind of Hollywood studio or something.
But why? Why would they fake something like that?
There was nothing of value on the moon (because we all know how our government works) so it wasn't like they had to get there first to gather up all the "good stuff." It wasn't like we could start a war from up there, so really, why fake something like that? Her point...Then why go?

Note to self...never debate with J while she is in front of the computer. She will pull up whatever she can to solidify her belief.

I was in front of mine too, but mine isn't hooked up to the internet (strictly for writing my books) so she had an unfair advantage. Very unfair. But damnit! I fought the best I could with what I had...photography knowledge.

She showed me all kinds of pictures saying that since NASA claims there was no lighting taken on the trip, the shadows in the pictures were wrong and proves there was lighting. Sans...Hollywood studio.
I examined all these pictures and told her my thoughts. For one thing, I really don't think that there was NO light on the shuttle itself. That would be like turning me loose in the woods without a flashlight at night. There had to be some kind of lights on the shuttle. Even if there wasn't, do people NOT think that light reflects? So, I told her that I thought the discrepancies in the shadows could have been caused by either one...reflection or a light from the shuttle itself.

If that's all they have on proving that the trip to the moon was fake then its weak.
Like I said, it doesn't matter to me either way but if you are going to convince me that something isn't true, I need better evidence than a damn shadow in a picture.

Then she tried to tell me that the flag was blowing or something. I told her to prove to me that there is no wind up there, then she might have a case.

After an hour or so of her pointing at shadows, I gave up. She wasn't listening to me. I pulled on my headphones and told her I was going back to my book. I blared some Runaway's and attempted to ignore her. She kept tapping me on the shoulder but I kept laughing and shaking my head. She didn't let up until 4 o'clock in the morning!

I didn't get much writing done and I'm still not convinced.

Definitions

in·con·sid·er·ate (nkn-sdr-t) adj.

1. Thoughtless of others; displaying a lack of consideration.
2. Not well considered or carefully thought out; ill-advised.

If this word describes you then FUCK YOU!