Emoting...

I hate having emotions.

A fav author of mine once made the comparison of her young self to a giant, sloshing milk filled breast. Meaning, she was so chock full of nurturing compassion and oodles of love she could've exploded; except that she had no one to give it to.

That's how I feel sometimes. I have love. Much love. But I have no one to give it to and that makes me sad.

Hate sad. It's so... not happy. Ha.

Emotions are so dang pesky. I wish I could be rid of mine, with the exception of when it comes to my kids. I wonder can I train myself not to have emotions about anything or anyone except for my children?

When I was in my teens I was indifferent. Didn't care, nothing mattered, dark, despair... a bomb could go off next to me and blow off my left tit and I wouldn't have given two fucks. But didn't we feel that way at that age? No? Just me?

From age 18-20 I'd had a couple of heartbreaks (and rapes) under my belt and I was no longer indifferent. I was a ruthless, cold hearted, down right mean bitch. I dated, I dropped them and didn't give a damn about anyone. I wanted to hurt guys just as much as they hurt me. I wanted to lead them on, turn them on, fuck them stupid and get up and walk away without a backward glance. And I did. Many times. And the insanely funny thing is that I warned each and every guy how this "thing" would work. And each and every guy just knew that he would be different. He would be the one to change things. He would make the ice on my heart melt. And all those "he"'s were dead ass wrong.

But the moment I became pregnant with Jaalyn at age 23 all that changed. All the ice melted off my heart and the moment she entered my arms and turned and looked at me as I first uttered her name I was hooked on this love thing. I never knew you could feel such an intense love for another human being in such a short period of time. And since the Love flood gate was open, I left it that way; thinking that I could get to like this intensity elsewhere in my life.

Not. A. Fucking. Chance. In. HELL.

My God Almighty. I know this much is true: Love hurts. A helluva lot. And even when you think it's gone from your heart for good, even when you try your damnedest to turn it off, you can't.

Or maybe I am not trying hard enough? Right now, I hate loving someone that doesn't love me back. I am sick of loving another woman's man/men. I HATE LOVE. Period. It sucks.

So maybe I should give the cold hearted chick another try, eh? Maybe I should return to those grass roots, dig a little deeper and make sure the roots go down much, much farther so that they can't be removed. Maybe I should build up my impregnable wall of strength, double checking for cracks and let no one in. Except my girls. Sloshing milk filled breast for those two for sure.

But for anyone else? I don't think so. I'm starting to think that cold, mean, bitch is the way to go. Certainly the way to protect the heart. Certainly.

Bring Some Cheese For All This W(h)ine...

Oh my holy hell.

I feel like shit. Total and complete shit. It sucks donkey dick to be a girl sometimes. Period came this morning, totally unexpected and of course the day before I see my physician who was supposed to inspect me from head to toe, inside and out and up the yonni.

Obviously there's one spot he can't go. Damn. Was hoping to get that pesky annual exam over and done with.

But I'm crampy; horribly, horribly crampy. My back is aching, I'm tired as hell and I'm cold which is odd since I've heard people complaining that it's warm in here (at work). My neck aches, knees hurt. Wah, wah, wah. Yes I am a big fat baby. Who knew this thing was going to come today? I figured the early part of next week, but not today. I got the oldest kid to school and was walking down the sidewalk when I felt something amiss. No... NOOOO!!!! Not yet! Was making weekend plans! FUN weekend plans! ADULT FUN weekend plans! With a guy! A really hot, heavily tattooed, adorably accented guy!

Damn, damn, DAMN.

Now I'm bleeding, I'm cold, I'm tired. I need ibuprofen, hot coffee, a nice hot shower and a nap.

Oh man...

I hate YouTube.

I rarely go to the site, and only visited because I was looking at this insanely old video I couldn't recall in the ole memory banks.

And then I looked up another video.

And another...

And I was smiling from the memories. Things I hadn't seen since grade school. Hell, things I hadn't thought of since grade school. School girl crushes on boy bands. Friendship bracelets and jelly shoes. Back when you could buy candy from the ice cream man and getting a boyfriend meant beating his ass on the playground to gain both his attention and respect.

Wow. And man I feel old. I wonder... did we realize how unbelievably WHACK we were back then? As if the fashions weren't bad enough, with the mushroom/gumby hairstyles and biker shorts with tanks and suspenders (Hello, Bobby Brown a la "Every Little Step") and rope chains. But the dances? And the... the... innocence of it all. Despite the corruption everywhere - and back then it was the War on Drugs, not terror- there was a certain underlying innocence that is gone today.

Call me old fashioned, but I miss that.

Funny things my kid says, Pt II

I often let the kids play in some sort of dry food when we're home since I never EVER let them set foot into the sandbox (re: nature's giant litter box) at the playground. Some dried lentils or dry beans and a few scoops and bowls and their happy as pigs in mud.

This afternoon they played in dry oats. Just a plain ole giant tub of old fashioned oatmeal I got for about $2.50 from Food Lion.

Jaalyn tells me she's opening a restaurant and she'll slide me in the back door because her restaurant is VERY expensive and popular (who knew I had a hotspot equivilant to the Ivy in my own living room?).

Jaalyn: Today we are serving Kitten Boodle.
Me: Wha? You're serving what?
Jaalyn: Kitten Boodle. It's got some of everything in it and it's VERY good. We're serving the whole thing today. We only served half of it yesterday.
Me: ... do you mean it's got the "whole kit and kaboodle?"
Jaalyn: Yeah, that's it! We're serving the whole Kitten Boodle today.

And now...

How many times has my finger hovered above the "Delete Blog" button?

I'm not sure why I even keep this blog going. It's taken an entirely different direction than I intended. I wanted it to be one thing but it's morphed into a far more personal journal; more personal than I ever expected.

I suppose the biggest "fear" I have, which I know I share with many other bloggers, is that fear of being judged. Yes, I write what I am feeling, but it's not a true embodiement of who I am as a person or an accurate summation of my character. On the other hand, I don't really care how I am judged for the exact same reasons stated. Because I know that this blog is not a full representation of me.

When I write, I write how I feel. Whether it's happiness, or anger, frustration, depression... it's all very spur-of-the-moment. Just as a diary would be. Only this diary is open to the world and some very mean people.

So, I don't know. This may be my last entry. I may decide to print the things I wrote about the kids, tuck it away in their baby books and delete this blog altogether. May decide to start up another. I'm not sure.

So...

*Inhales deeply*

*Exhales slowly*


Now, don't we all feel just a lil bit better? Having gotten all sorts of shit off our chests?

No?

Me neither but hey, it's a new day. Lots of sunshine outside, plenty of heat and the world is full of lovely half naked creatures to gawk at.

I'm doing my best to keep my head up. Doing my best to stay upbeat. I think this evening when I go home I will put Beyonce's DVD into the player, crank up the volume and watch the little ones shake their little booties. Jaalyn knows nearly every move for "Upgrade U" and when "Get Me Bodied" comes on... I get a cramp in my stomach from laughing at Trinity. I mean that diapered butt gets to bouncing, hands clapping and arms akimbo that girl gets it.

Those two are enough to make my spirits soar on any given day. Then again they are also enough to put me in the nuthouse on the other given days.

I'll post pictures of them soon. Just as soon as I can get my brand spanking new Dell fixed.

Congratulations Honey! You made the BLOG!!!

This post is dedicated to one and only one person because I can't effectively say what I would like to over email. At work. In public. And refrain from screaming obscenities.

Hence the reason I have not called you to tell you EXACTLY how I feel. So much more mannerable to do it in written form.

All those not involved in this little tete a la tete you can go bout your merry way...

And honestly if you don't know WHO you are... well then you're about as dense as dino shit. If you suspect it's you...

It's YOU.

It's funny. We've been beefing for the past several days over some really stupid shit. Well, to me it's stupid because it started from fabrication effectively spun by your idiotic co-worker and you despite your lofty intellect took the bait, hook, line and sinker.

So let's just lay it all out on the table m'kay?

We've been kicking it for what? about 2 years? Which not-so-ironically is the amount of time you and your bitc... ahem, lady have been together. (to my lovely readers, if you could not tell, I do not like her. At all.) And we've known each other perhaps almost a year prior to that.

It took me a while to admit how I felt about you. The feelings were always there but I was afraid of being hurt again. By the time they'd bubbled to the surface you were already involved with her. But, as you said, it wasn't anything serious. So, hey, I thought I had a shot.

Fast forward to you telling me you didn't know who you wanted. Then you said you knew who you wanted and it wasn't me. You opted to see where things would go with her.

Insert knife into heart <here>.

It hurt but I did my best to accept it. My love for you never dissipated. We talked about it and I agreed to be the other woman.

That was big assed mistake Numero Uno. Will make mental note to get "FUCKING IDIOT" tattooed upon forehead...

Ordinarily, I'm a good "other" woman. But the depth of my love for you made me jealous. A new experience for me. And bitter.... Reeeaaaallly bitter. So when, in a moment of anger you threw the "Well, it could've been you if you'd done this that and the other" oh hell fucking no. I wasn't even available at the time you expressed interest in me and unlike SOME FUCKING PEOPLE I remain faithful to the one I'm with until the relationship is over. Ah...Remember those arguments?

Ah, the good ole days... of earlier this year.

Fast forward to the end of last week. The straw that broke the camel, that fine line that was crossed, the piss in my Cheerios... you get the point. You listen to O.F. (note: use of initials to protect the stupid) and the bullshit he spouts. Not only do you listen to him but you believe that shit.

The fuck? Are you out of your fucking mind? What in the name of all that is holy is fucking wrong with you? Why would I want such a troglodyte? A lying, cheating married fucker that's shallower than that prick Pangman? I said he was cute once. He shows up at my cube unannounced. Call me crazy but some people would consider that stalking. And then when he gets here all his advances are rebuffed. He calls, I don't call back. He brags, I tell him I'm uninterested. He pursued, I dodged.

Someone out there that's sane, please tell me how this means I want this man in particular.

Oh I see. I love one cheater that must mean I love them all right? After all I am the whore of the Center aren't I? So says Pangman. And Johnson. And Parker. And a host of others.

And then to suggest that you're just looking out for me and don't want me to waste my time and energies on someone that's obviously not good for me.

*crickets*

Yeeeeaah... okay. I appreciate ya lookin' out for this feebleminded ole gal but honey I could tell long before you returned from the academy that Mr. I-gots-me-a-Lexus wasn't bout shit. The fact that you told me he was married only cemented the idea of him being a wholly big assed egotistical jerk.

But good lookin' out.

And then came the statement that totally threw me for a loop: "...in no way shape or form are he and I alike, except the fact we both are interested in you, but even that is for different reasons. You can say we both cheat but that is generic."

*even the crickets went silent on that one*

Generic? GENERIC?! Cheating is cheating is cheating. You can't one up when you both do the exact same fucking thing. He married and he cheats. You've got a bitch, chick, whatever the fuck you call her and you CHEAT. WHERE THE FUCK IS THE GODDAMNED DIFFERENCE?!

Sorry... lost the happy persona.

No, I'm not sorry. Look, if you don't like how he carries himself when it comes to me this is my assvice: Stop listening. It's just that fucking simple. But this isn't about him, at least I don't think it is. It goes far deeper but fuck it. It's not worth scratching the surface because it's a waste of time. You are with her. You made your choice and I have to accept it. And to be truthful, I told you a while back that even if you were free at this moment I still wouldn't want you. You didn't want me then, I don't believe you want me now. So fuck your bitch and be happy about your decision. Hey, you could always marry her and then be JUST like O.F.

And yes, I've been mean to you the past several days. There's a good reason for that.

1. I'm angry.
2. I'm bitter. Verrrry bitter. Not just about you. About all men that knife up a heart till it's bloody but still say they care.
3. I'm still angry. You insulted my pride first when you chose Casey over me. I could deal with that. I can nurse my pride and creep to a corner to lick my wounds. But this time? You insulted my intellect. You believed an asshat over me, despite my attempts to keep you well informed. That was what truly pissed me off and makes me think you don't have a shred of respect for me.

And you my dear have succeeded in giving O.F. exactly what he wanted. A nice deep wedge between you and I. That was his goal all along and he won.

And you won. Because you still have someone to retreat to. So I'm the loser all the way 'round.

Looo-zer. Yep, that's me. But it's cool though.

An aside... was listening to Mary J in the car. God that woman can blow can't she? I think that Mary was her best album to date. That was the scorned woman's anthem of the late 90s. I particularly love "The Love I Never Had" and for you, my love, my not-love, the never-mine love, I dedicate it to you.

The Love I Never Had
Artist: Mary J. Blige
Album: MaryYear: 1999

You know sometimes
There come a time in your life
When you love something
You have to let it go
And even though
You might feel there's still something there
You have to wake up
Stop living in a dream
Cause it's over now
You got to think about you

I have always wondered why,
Why I can't live without you babe
And I'm longing to be your lady
I understand that you are leaving
Please don't live here without me babe
Cause I think I might go insane

Chorus:
Cause everybody needs someone to love
And I know that it's true
And I know that it's you
I don't understand
Why you can't be my man
So I better wake up
Stop living in a dream
Yes I better wake up
Cause I can't lose the love I never had
Oh I better wake up
As painful as it seems
Yes I better wake up
I cannot lose the love I never had

Every time I close my eyes
I see visions of you and I
Sharing love of a special kind
I got to laugh to keep from crying
To hide all the pain inside
Cause I can't get you off my mind

Chorus

Oh it made me realize
But you don't know how hard I tried
What do I have to lose?
Oh I think a little bit more than you
And I doubt you will see things clearly
Before it's too late

Chorus

All the times I've cried
It made me realize
That I was only living a lie
But you don't know how hard I tried
To make sure you were satisfied
yeah
Cause I thought you were only mine (Correction: I NEVA thought that shit.)
And I doubt if you will see things clearly
Before it's too late, too late, too late
I don't understand why you can't be my man
Oh everybody needs somebody to love
Everybody needs somebody
yeah
Oh, do do do
Baby, I can't live with you
And I doubt that you will see things clearly
Before it's too late, yeah
Oh you hurt me so, you hurt me soI can't lose, I can't loseI can not lose, I can not lose
Oh I can't lose a love I never had
---------------------------------

Remember the story of Sleeping Beauty? She slept 100 years waiting for Prince Charming to kiss her awake.

Honey, fuck Prince Charming. I'm kissing myself awake and I'm seeing things VERY clearly.

I love you still. I always will.

We can be friends, never again will we be lovers though. My heart can't take it and neither can my pride.

Kids say the darnedest things...

Mo-ooom! Come here! I got a mergency!

Me: A what??

I hit my big toe, take me to the hospital it’s a mergency!

*******

I know where fish heaven is mommy. It’s right here (points to stomach). Because when they die we eat them so heaven must be here in my tummy. It must be where pig heaven, cow heaven and chicken heaven are too.

******
Our neighbor three apts down has 5 (five!) albino pythons. He had one draped around his neck and we (the kids and I) stared and spoke to him from a distance. He went into his apartment briefly and emerged with another, larger snake which he placed on the ground so it could exercise and explore a bit. I asked could I let the girls come over to see it and he acquiesced. Jaalyn stopped about 5 feet from the snake and announced “You know what? I can see it just fine from here.” The snake had other ideas though since she continued to make a beeline for my feet. Trinity stared and stared at the snake while I repeated “See the snake? See? See SNAKE?!” as if she could possibly miss the giant 14 foot yellow snake slithering towards us.

Trinity stared at it, pointed and yelled “SEE MOMMY?! SEE KITTY! KITTY-KITTY!”

“Uh, no baby, it’s a snake. S-N-A-K-E.”

*looks at snake*

*looks at me incredulously*

*sighs and shakes head*

“Kitty, mama…”

***********

I swear if I didn't have my girls to keep me going I'd go totally bonkers. Come to think of it, sometimes I think I'm totally bonkers because of my kids so I guess that means that I'm cancelling out something somewhere. But they are always a source of happiness and laughter for me. Whether it's Jaalyn's thoughtful theories of fish heaven or a discussion about how everyone, even the divine Beyonce poops and has to wipe their butt, or watching Trinity dance to anything remotely musical. I swear that girl is so much like me. She can find the melody in any noise, whether it's water rushing out of the drainspout, cicadas singing in the trees or the jingles of the neighborhood ice cream truck. That diapered booty gets to shaking, knees bend and lately she's added a head bop that would put the best acid rock head banger to shame. Sends me into peals of laughter and delight every time I see it. One day I will have to post a video of her dancing to Beyonce's "Get Me Bodied" video. When the "pat yo weave ladies" part comes on... believe me, if you're not laughing at her you'll be flinching from the enthusiastic way she, uh, pats.

I seem to be losing more friends nowadays. Some I'm voluntarily letting go and others are blowing up in my face. I think I lost one Friday over something un-fucking-believable. (I wrote about it here.) But I suppose if the friendship is lost over something so damned stupid, perhaps it wasn't true to begin with. Very difficult to have a platonic friendship after you've sampled the merchandise. Perhaps that friendship should've been put to rest a while ago. After Friday I think you could stick a fork in it though; it's done.

Another friendship thats unraveling at the seam involves my BFF (I totally feel like an ass using such a trendy phrase.) but I think I will have to discuss that at another time. Kiddos are antsy and they come first before blogging.

More musings...

Enough of the sappy stuff, let's get back to what we all know and love, eh? My bitching, moaning and whining.

You know, I am more than willing enough to admit I am having a serious issue with depression. As a matter of fact, I'd written about it in a previous post before Blogger's "Autosave" devoured it. And since I'm in a self deprecating mood this morning, let's explore that issue in-depth.

And yes, this is more for my benefit than any of my reading audience's and well... whatever. Don't like it, skip on to the next blog. I won't be mad or blame you if you do.

Still here?

So I sat back and thought how long have I had this lethargy of mine, how long my house has been in it's current state (more on that in a bit) and how long I've been fighting this overwhelming sadness and defeatest (defeatist? is it even a word??) attitude of mine.

And by my calculations that answer would be somewhere around January 2005. Helluva long time to be sad. In January 05, specifically the 22nd of that month, I miscarried. My baby fell into my palm and my whole world caved in on me. Naturally I mourned the loss and was confused as to why it happened. I made my peace with it, got into a whirlwind relationship that unraveled nearly as fast as it developed and eventually decided that my doctors were correct when they said the fastest way to get past the terrible loss of one child is to create another. My lost child will never, ever be forgotten, but the creation of the newest helped me move past that awful pain and I did indeed desperately want another child.

Then came the first trimester and the bleeding. Miscarriage overted, yay yay yay, on to the second trimester... yay, yay, yay. On to the third trimester, yay, yay.... uh-oh. What's that in the baby's stomach? A blockage? A tumor? Will the fetus survive? What the hell did I do God to deserve this agony and worry? The baby was fine, wasn't bothered by whatever it was but my heart, my nerves, my God. I worried myself sick, didn't look forward to the birth because I was too worried that the nurses would yank the baby out of my womb and then whisk her off to surgery before I would even get to hold her. And there was no guarantee she'd survive the surgery either since they weren't sure what the hell they were removing. Then she was born, beautiful and healthy, except for a dead, twisted ovary. Into the NICU at two days old, operated on at 5 days old and on morphine for 2 more days before being released to my waiting arms. Oh my God.

Bring on the postpartum depression, full blast. Dedication and determination to breastfeed Trinity until her first birthday prevented me from getting medication to help me get through the hormonal nightmare. Quit the booby love the week of her birthday this June and now... I've gotten medication. And quit it. And gotten more. And quit it. It seems the medications I've been on have this nasty side effect. While the first one made me feel GREAT it also made my throat constrict to the point I couldn't eat more than three bites of a meal and I'd gag when I yawned. And since I have this thing about breathing and being alive I stopped the medication. Tried another that made me feel, eh, okay, but it too had the same side effect. Not as drastic but still the same throat closing issue. Not due to go back to the doctor until the 31st so... I'm stuck in limbo until then.

And Thursday I was reading one of those Dear Help-Me-Out columns online (did I ever mention my obsession with those things? Love them.) and someone had written in about their home. How slovenly they'd become in the past several years; they wish they could have company and friends over but they were too embarrassed; how it was WAY more than packrat paradise and clutterbug cave but extended to trash, dirty dishes and their mom had a house where you could eat off her floors my God what's the problem? Oh and by the way Miss-so-and-so I've been fighting depression for a while.

*forehead slap*

Forgot bout that one. Makes sense though. When I am happy, I have no problem keeping every aspect of my life clean. But lately instead of operating out of logic, as I used to do, I operate off pure emotion. One minute I'm happy and the next I'm in the bottom of gloom lagoon. It's terrible. I can't imagine how people that are bipolar must feel. And to make matters worse I have all sorts of catalysts to trigger my plummeting spirits that I can't rid myself of. Primary antagonist du jour is my mother. I swear sometimes I wonder if she didn't pick me up off a doorstep or something. I can't be that woman's biological child, the way she treats me. I've never known anyone so discouraging, disparaging and more. But short of cutting her off completely, which I don't think I could ever fully do since we do work at the same place, I don't think I could ever rid myself of her.

So, all of this is to say, I am understanding more about my depression, but I haven't set a path of reconstruction yet because I just don't know how to. I want a quick fix for this, but I know there is none. Just like everything else it will take time.

And even if I can't rid myself of my primary antagonist, I can rid myself of other negative things and people that do me more harm than good. Right?

I just don't know anymore.

Of Rats and Men...

Let's switch gears for a moment or two.

Instead of my usual bitching and moaning and griping about men and what absolute fucktards they all happen to be, allow me to tell you why I don't give up on men entirely. What keeps me going and keeps me inspired.

All men aren't lying, cheating, deceitful, craven little fucking shitheads. It's just that all the men I know are lying, cheating, deceitful, craven little fucking shitheads. I don't despise them entirely, primarily because every time I decide I am "through with them" (a.k.a. "I don't need/want a man") I find an all new reason to not give up hope on the species as a whole.

Men are sexy, plain and simple. And I don't mean just in the physical sense. There have been men that I've come across that I do not find attractive in the least physically. But then there will be one feature on him that can make him sexy. Things that I notice and find sexy are probably different that what other women note. To me the way a man walks can be sexy, whether it's the soft handed businessman in a suit that hustles off to his morning meeting with that tight little "white" walk; or the thug on the corner in the worst of neighborhoods with his pants, not down by his knees but resting comfortably on his waist and his pace is more of a glide as he walks down the sidewalk to the beat of the music blasting 3 blocks away.

So many things men do that can drive me mad with desire. The sight of a thin gold bracelet nestled in arm hair, peeking from underneath the cuff of his shirt. The timbre of his voice as it resonates deep in his chest as he patiently describes something I haven't the least bit of interest in... A man with a fresh haircut, freshly groomed and showered can make me swoon. Even if I don't know him I can still envision and feel the back of his head and neck in my mind's eye. A black man in a well tailored suit, outside a courtroom and not attending a funeral or making a spectacle of himself on Sunday drives me wild. I love a man's natural scent, his fresh out of the shower smell. Not the layers of thick, cloying cologne that EVERYONE seems to preserve themselves in like formaldehyde.

His face doesn't matter, nor his physique, all men have something of beauty on them. I'm actually partial to men that aren't slender. I love a big man. Something about their girth appeals to me though I can't put my finger on it exactly. I love the power they exude.

That's it... that is the single, sexiest thing I think any man could possess. Power. It's what draws women in to him. Men like Bill Clinton, for example. Bill isn't exactly a dreamy hunk of a man. He wasn't particularly handsome as a young man either. But as President of the world's strongest nation he skyrocketed to the top of the sexy list. He had power and he wielded well. Monica Lewinsky is and was a fool for what she did. But power doesn't have to be over a nation, or even a person to be noticed. Power of the mind and body (notice I did not say over... I said of...), power over machinery, power period in any form is the ultimate aphrodesiac.

I don't give up on all men. I just give up on the ones I know. But truthfully, I'm not looking for a man. I don't frequent the places that would bring me the right "type" of guy. The intellect, the passion, the power I seek I would never find in the places I go routinely. All the men I usually meet are at work or around it.

And they're all lying, deceitful, cheating...

The TRUE Confessions of the Single Supermom...

Yeah, well...

I had the true confessions all written out. Ranting and raging on and on about my "truths": my hurts, my fears, my depression and my slight addiction and my need to insert the work fuck or any derivitive of the word fuck (i.e. fucker, fuckage, fuckity fuck fucks, etc) into every sentence uttered.

And Blogger deleted it. (Autosave my ass.)

Blogger delights in fucking with it's patrons. Beware.

So, I was going to rewrite it. But it's too long to rewrite and it's just too damned hot. It's nearly 8 and it's still boiling in the apt. My poor kids, whom I tricked into going to bed early (I swear I thought it was nearly 8...honest.) are upstairs where it's getting cool but its still slightly uncomfortable up there.

And I was all set to truly bare my soul to the Internet.

Oh well.