Stray Thoughts...

Sometimes I sit back and wonder why I don't get the respect that I feel I deserve. Maybe respect is the wrong word... more like common decency. For example, I am just plain sick and tired of married men hitting on me and asking me for fuck appointments. I mean really, I think at some point we've all gone through a whore phase or just a period of indiscretion but shit's getting ridiculous. Anyway, so I say no more. And I tell the married/boyfriend-y types a very clear NO. Within twenty-four hours two guys came back with the Baby Please nonsense. Jesus, I finally decide to have a shred of respect for myself and you want me to slice that to pieces so you can get a nut? It wouldn't bother me as much if I didn't explain how I felt about the whole matter. But everyone knows, especially anyone that reads this piece of shit blog of mine, how I feel about being #2 (4, 6, 8 who do we appreciate!). I feel I deserve better than to be a cumbucket for a dude, which is basically what happens before he cleans himself up to go cuddle with wifey and the next girlfriend.

Why am I so wrong for trying to respect myself? For wanting and knowing that I deserve better than this? Why do I allow guys to repeatedly ask me any fucking way after I've already said we're done? I don't know who to be angrier at, their dumb asses or my dumb ass.
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I had one of those gut wrenching "Where is my life going" moments this morning. Sitting at a traffic light just before going through the gates to my job. I feel like a such a fuck up at life, at parenting, at everything. I mean I'm a good mom to the kids, but not the best I could be. It's like I've lost hope in everything and I'm afraid to try new things. Totally unlike me. But much of it has to do with the stress and pressure from my job and just dealings with life in general. I'm under constant pressure and my mind is constantly going. My body is constantly going too and I don't feel like I can properly rest it. It's like I never get a chance to relax and just, I don't know, do what I want to do. Problem is, I'm not sure what to do if I actually had free time so I guess it's a moot point altogether isn't it?
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Had a heart stopping moment this past Sunday. I discovered a black widow spider in a box at the foot of my bed. She was the biggest black widow I'd ever seen. I like black widows (praying mantis too, can you guess why?), but I do not like them in the house... in my bedroom... inches from where I and my child sleep. She scared the shit out of me and made me realize fuck the foolishness I've been spouting for years, I have too much shit EVERYWHERE and who knows what else might slither indoors one day? Who knows what could be nesting under beds, inside cabinets and closets that I can't reach because there's clothes, boxes, etc in the way? Hell no, the shit's got to go. Pronto.
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The other day I was listening to some music, just soft tunes playing in the car as the children slept and I realized just how lonely I am. Not for a man specifically, but just for adult company period. I've given thought to dating and discarded the thought immediately. I'm not ready to date and quite frankly I'm not interested in falling in love either. Love is pain, pain is love... I say no to both. I'm discouraged and dejected because of what I see. I see men loving women dishonestly. After being the town whore and seeing that perspective I'm not sure I could ever trust a man. But then, man was not made by God to be trusted. And neither was woman. I'll take loneliness over love any day. At least with loneliness I can dream of the love I hope to have someday. By actually being with a man... Jesus, that hope is destroyed entirely.

Yes, I am bitter. I don't deny it. I am bitter, I am angry and I am discouraged but I am smart enough not to inflict this self induced angst on someone else nor use a person for base purposes until I "sort this all out".

Bitter, much.
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My great aunt passed on Saturday. Just thinking about her makes me smile. She was an incredible woman in life. She is the only person I know that could scold you, curse you and Praise Jesus all in one breath. I did not visit as often as I should. I didn't call. I didn't write. But I loved her and she knew it and said she understood my distance. And she reiterated the importance of family. My response then (we were at her sister, who was my grandmother's funeral) was that the last part of this branch of the family died in that casket. She squeezed my hand and told me:

Bitch, not all your family is dead. Bring your ass over to visit me and I'll show you. Where are my cigarrettes?

Aunt Mack I loved you but God loved you more. NOW the last part of that family that meant anything to me is gone and I've no reason to look back anymore. As you would say they're all going to hell in a handbasket anyway... shit.
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All I want out of life is to be happy. Simplicity is what I crave and it's odd that it eludes me. I haven't quite figured that out. I sit here now and I'm not sure what direction I want my life to go, what to do, what to be, how to act, or anything. It's like I'm standing before a brick wall. Not hit a brick wall, as in life's going so fast that wham! I hit a wall and am startled to see it's there. More like I casually sauntered up to the wall and examined it before making a decision.

And I bet if I stop staring at the fucking wall, I'll look to the left or right and just walk around it.