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until winter dust blows over..
Two ambien and glass of white, equals sleeping until this winter dust blows over..
11:59 PM | Filed Under | 0 Comments
Karma's Bitter Sweet Kiss
12:00 AM | Filed Under | 0 Comments
Help...
Dear Civilization,
I miss you. Please take me back. That is all. Thank you.
xoxo,
DCGG
I miss you. Please take me back. That is all. Thank you.
xoxo,
DCGG
12:57 PM | Filed Under | 0 Comments
Surviving the Tundra...
I always laugh at the "reality" shows that depict survival in Alaska. They come in SUMMERTIME or during "Break-Up." When at most it's -5 at NIGHT. As I told Mr. Boots in a conversation on the topic of my disgust..."Bitch, I walk my dog in -40, everyday, every night, the bears live in my back yard, and if you don't carry a fire starting system with you at all times, well that's just Evolution at work."
I say this all in jest, as I have been locked out of my house at -15 for six hours --which is why I always have a fire starter on hand now. I am now also going through my second winter, where there is no sunlight, and where most people slowly sink into depression. This is what really kills you in the Tundra. The one thing every survival show has gotten right, is it's not the freezing that will kill you, its the will to live, and your lack of thereof, that will eventually do you in.
I am hanging on by a thread, and as I wrote my only real girl friend, I see how difficult it truly is to Survive the Frozen Tundra...here's the update-- with names/details slightly obscured.
Dearest Kitten...
I say this all in jest, as I have been locked out of my house at -15 for six hours --which is why I always have a fire starter on hand now. I am now also going through my second winter, where there is no sunlight, and where most people slowly sink into depression. This is what really kills you in the Tundra. The one thing every survival show has gotten right, is it's not the freezing that will kill you, its the will to live, and your lack of thereof, that will eventually do you in.
I am hanging on by a thread, and as I wrote my only real girl friend, I see how difficult it truly is to Survive the Frozen Tundra...here's the update-- with names/details slightly obscured.
Dearest Kitten...
Forgive me. I confess upfront that I am in an emotional state right now, but I felt I shouldn't put off this letter to you any longer. I really didn't want to be "that person"--the whiner, the complainer. But I am, and so I'll try to answer what was asked and give you the shortest possible version with minimum complaint..as if that was possible. :)
To begin, all in all, I would say everything is fine, but it is far from. Due to the Civilian Hiring Freeze, the "emergency" job I was hired for with -- is now basically "non-existent." The job was one of the many budgetary cuts necessary for the base. I'm suddenly not "that" critical..But oddly, the "job" is still due to open, at some time, non-specified, when budgeting allows. My Husband keeps his hopes on it, but I've pretty much called it a lost cause. I've considered taking on other "non-legal" jobs, but the downfall is that the student loan agencies have grown restless, and they want there money. Sadly, I can't even get a job in the "legal-aid" part of Alaska, as Lawyers here are few, but jobs here are fewer. Of the FIVE attorneys admitted, three are clerks, and one is a paralegal. And then there's me. Do you know I could get paid more working at the supermarket than what they pay a paralegal.(28k a year, that's it, no benefits)..It's outrageous. All that work, to be a paralegal. It's laughable.
So, as stated before, I am considering, "non-legal" work or rather I should say "pseudo-legal" work as you need "experience" or a JD to apply, but here are the options: I could either take a job to assist families of casualties lost at war,....fun, --OR-- work at the medical center, working on claims against the hospital. Either way, it seems like a tremendous amount of work, without any of that whole "swearing-in", passing the bar, stuff mattering. It's rather disheartening. I could take a stab in the dark and try to get hired on at a ten-person "FIRM" --, an hour each way from the house...but at - 40 and Ice on the road, I'm scared to die in my front yard. Nevertheless it may come to that.
At the moment, The Husband is on another Temporary Deployment--it only bothers me is that he escapes this frozen tundra without any idea as to how fortunate he is to return to civilization. The dog is growing daily, and fortunately with his size, his pea brain is growing a wee bit, in which he is learning in the smallest way that I am not his chew toy. For the past four months, I have looked like I have been beaten...and I have been...by the dog. I have teeth marks on my arms that I don't ever think will go away. The Husband, of course says that I'm not strict enough....that at -40 the dog can survive just fine outside. Then again, Husband is never here so he doesn't have to see the dog whine and cry. Husband is always at work. You know, the dog doesn't even like to go outside with Husband. He's scared of my Husband, he respects my Husband, but somehow, I'm the one who got picked to to take care of the dog. The Husband leaves for deployment "soon" for the standard "six months". And he'll leave "his dog" right here, to eat me when I die in a snowbank in our front yard. It'll be the dog or the bears. I'll at least die knowing I passed the bar.
For the above reasons, I've begun looking for a new house. Something closer to "the city" or "the bigger city." Something with a yard in which I can let the dog run without fear that he'll be run over or eaten, or run away because well, he's a stupid dog and runs for blocks without coming back --like there are no dangers--and guess who gets to go trudging after him..... Well, god willing, I'll find that house with a fence. and god willing it will be something that we can afford. Hopefully, by a higher power's grace, this house will be near a job that can keep me as care free as my counter-part who is happy as a clam here.--You know, he is out of his mind stupid happy here. Instead of looking at houses to rent, he is looking at houses to BUY. He wants to stay here. Forever. For-Ev-Er.
I am trying Kitten. I've been trying for a good long time. I've kept busy. I let him have the dog. I put up with the dog. I studied for the bar, I passed the bar. I am a full fledged "Spouse" and I go to meetings, and I clip coupons, and I am trying to make this work...I made us all go take pictures with Santa, and I lie like crazy to my parents and tell them I'm happy, but I may die out here...
As to Kids. in case you're wondering. I became so disillusioned,....
.... I can't handle a dog alone, Kitten, I don't think I could handle a kid alone. Not out here. Not alone. Which is what I am. A lot of the time. Maybe after the deployment. Maybe after I learn to depend on myself again.
I hope that wasn't too much. I'm sorry if it was. I miss you both terribly. I love you, xoxox
12:09 AM | Filed Under | 0 Comments
An Explanation on Where I AM, Now
Preface: After a "text/talk" from the aforementioned Mr Boots, who has survived this exact same arctic tundra,I gave him a slight insight into my miseries. He asked me if I could write it out...The change from liberal, dynamic, lawyer-in-training to apathetic housewife stuck in isolation. I don't even know how I responded....but as the previous blog entry relays, it got to me...Boots always did...Thus,
The Frozen Marital Front:
It was been made clear to me, yesterday evening, that I had been sleeping in the same bed with my husband for the past two years. I hate this bed. In fact I hate almost 70% of the furniture in this household.....ALL the bedroom furniture is a cast off the EX-wife...and while that Ju-ju is bad enough, it is not at all stylish or functional.
Buy new furniture, right? Wrong. When stuck in an arctic Tundra one is quickly limited in furniture options- let alone, seasonal produce- without being prepared to hand over a small fortune. So the Furniture stays. Luxury Items, like paying the Electric bill at 20 degrees in October, somehow take precedence.
Plus there are dire needs: such as feeding my husbands "sled dog" that he so desperately wanted, his $50 a bag high protein diet. Mind you, I rarely eat out now, but the dog is happy.
I am not...So, I thought tonight, at 3:30 am as I awoke to find myself alone in the bed I hate, with the dog whimpering to be let out. How did this happen? After pulling off the down jacket, and removing the clip from my .40 caliber required to take the dog out...I thought I might "put into words" what happened...or at least strike a guess.
__________________________
Like many couples of today, my husband and I moved in together gradually. My husband--then boyfriend--began sleeping over at my place, I began sleeping over at his. Drawers eventually were being given over and exchanged to a point. Until we were engaged? No, no....that would be a lie...Until we were taken down "as witnesses" to his stupid housemates Weekend Antics....Yes. That was the trigger. Nothing like, 4 hours of interrogation to decide, I don't want to live THERE anymore.
So the Fiance moved in...and most of "his stuff" moved into storage...except the bed....the bed and TV were the "good pieces" of household furnishings that came into my small 1 bedroom life...both my bed and TV were too small for a man of 6'6". Fast forward....
Eventually we moved into a 2200 sq ft home, 3 bedrooms, a formal office, living room, dining room, and separate game room/man cave. It was awesome. We were married, and lived there for four months. And inevitably we were then deployed to where we are now...The TUNDRA.
NOW...In 3 months, we will have been stationed at our new "home" for a full year.... Of course my husband will be gone overseas for this momentous occasion...But nothing I haven't become accustomed to...Yes, while the husband is gone, "working" I will be left home alone...again. Very much like the past 9 months have been.
While he's "physically here"...4 waking hours of the day, and maybe 6 sleeping hours....I can usually count on my husband being GONE or LEAVING from 5:30 AM to 5:30 PM...with HOURS lost in the "10 minute drive to work", "stopping in at work," "getting calls from work" and my favorite, "relaxing" because he "just got home from work." Riiiiiight. Somedays, I look forward to his physical absence...I've said it before, there is nothing lonelier, than being in bed with someone, and realizing you're all alone...
Now, I wish I could say I'm not a complainer. I have a wonderful husband. He is a great provider. He ask very, very little of me, and deep down, despite my complaints, and irritations, he does all he can to make me happy, and show me he loves me on a daily basis...Except....He's just "not here," and he just doesn't realize how much I hate the life of the woman I have become....
The Woman I've Become
Women everywhere not only rejoice at such a situation, but once upon a time, I used to relish my status: HOUSEWIFE. Job duty Requiring: Only that dinner is made, lunches prepared, coffee ready; and laundry and home kept in a "guest could drop by unexpectedly, any minute" fashion. Plus, love your husband unconditionally.
--It wasn't that hard once upon a time. I like to pretend once upon a time I did ALL of that, but its so vague a memory.
How does it become harder? When does it become so hard, that you hate your dependent status with such passion, that you're prepared to pawn jewelry, just to get back to a place of civilization?
Well, for me, it got harder when stores were no longer accessible by walking a block this way or that....or when the metro was cut out of the equation entirely...When we moved to a location that required me to wear a side-arm when "borrowing" the one vehicle in our one vehicle household....it became annoying....
Now, it has become seemingly impossible as I am shouldered with the responsibilities of a dog that I did NOT count on, but did agree to keeping, because my husband had one while growing up....Yes, well, as much as I love the furball, he was the straw, the catalyst....I have all but given up.
Never once did I believe a dog could make me wish to not have children. Or that I'd treasure the workforce. Or even contemplate giving up pets for adoption, as clearly both my pets hate each other like Cats and Dogs...But such is my life.
I never thought I'd miss the Convenience of escaping my own home. Miss the convienance of a walk to the book store, a lecture, grabbing dinner at the grocery store, the local bar...anywhere but the 4 bedroom hell I feel trapped into. I never thought I'd miss a PERSONAL income that I could indulge in...one where I could buy a five dollar coffee, have a manicure pedicure because I felt like it, or just buy clothes, because they were cute.....those days are long gone.
No...Now I am in the EX-wife's bed, with the dog sleeping under it, who has scarred my cat away. My husband fell asleep in the living room, intentionally or not, I'm unclear. I am wide awake, at 4:30 knowing exactly where I am now, and contemplating, "So what am I going to do about it???"
The Frozen Marital Front:
It was been made clear to me, yesterday evening, that I had been sleeping in the same bed with my husband for the past two years. I hate this bed. In fact I hate almost 70% of the furniture in this household.....ALL the bedroom furniture is a cast off the EX-wife...and while that Ju-ju is bad enough, it is not at all stylish or functional.
Buy new furniture, right? Wrong. When stuck in an arctic Tundra one is quickly limited in furniture options- let alone, seasonal produce- without being prepared to hand over a small fortune. So the Furniture stays. Luxury Items, like paying the Electric bill at 20 degrees in October, somehow take precedence.
Plus there are dire needs: such as feeding my husbands "sled dog" that he so desperately wanted, his $50 a bag high protein diet. Mind you, I rarely eat out now, but the dog is happy.
I am not...So, I thought tonight, at 3:30 am as I awoke to find myself alone in the bed I hate, with the dog whimpering to be let out. How did this happen? After pulling off the down jacket, and removing the clip from my .40 caliber required to take the dog out...I thought I might "put into words" what happened...or at least strike a guess.
__________________________
Like many couples of today, my husband and I moved in together gradually. My husband--then boyfriend--began sleeping over at my place, I began sleeping over at his. Drawers eventually were being given over and exchanged to a point. Until we were engaged? No, no....that would be a lie...Until we were taken down "as witnesses" to his stupid housemates Weekend Antics....Yes. That was the trigger. Nothing like, 4 hours of interrogation to decide, I don't want to live THERE anymore.
So the Fiance moved in...and most of "his stuff" moved into storage...except the bed....the bed and TV were the "good pieces" of household furnishings that came into my small 1 bedroom life...both my bed and TV were too small for a man of 6'6". Fast forward....
Eventually we moved into a 2200 sq ft home, 3 bedrooms, a formal office, living room, dining room, and separate game room/man cave. It was awesome. We were married, and lived there for four months. And inevitably we were then deployed to where we are now...The TUNDRA.
NOW...In 3 months, we will have been stationed at our new "home" for a full year.... Of course my husband will be gone overseas for this momentous occasion...But nothing I haven't become accustomed to...Yes, while the husband is gone, "working" I will be left home alone...again. Very much like the past 9 months have been.
While he's "physically here"...4 waking hours of the day, and maybe 6 sleeping hours....I can usually count on my husband being GONE or LEAVING from 5:30 AM to 5:30 PM...with HOURS lost in the "10 minute drive to work", "stopping in at work," "getting calls from work" and my favorite, "relaxing" because he "just got home from work." Riiiiiight. Somedays, I look forward to his physical absence...I've said it before, there is nothing lonelier, than being in bed with someone, and realizing you're all alone...
Now, I wish I could say I'm not a complainer. I have a wonderful husband. He is a great provider. He ask very, very little of me, and deep down, despite my complaints, and irritations, he does all he can to make me happy, and show me he loves me on a daily basis...Except....He's just "not here," and he just doesn't realize how much I hate the life of the woman I have become....
The Woman I've Become
Women everywhere not only rejoice at such a situation, but once upon a time, I used to relish my status: HOUSEWIFE. Job duty Requiring: Only that dinner is made, lunches prepared, coffee ready; and laundry and home kept in a "guest could drop by unexpectedly, any minute" fashion. Plus, love your husband unconditionally.
--It wasn't that hard once upon a time. I like to pretend once upon a time I did ALL of that, but its so vague a memory.
How does it become harder? When does it become so hard, that you hate your dependent status with such passion, that you're prepared to pawn jewelry, just to get back to a place of civilization?
Well, for me, it got harder when stores were no longer accessible by walking a block this way or that....or when the metro was cut out of the equation entirely...When we moved to a location that required me to wear a side-arm when "borrowing" the one vehicle in our one vehicle household....it became annoying....
Now, it has become seemingly impossible as I am shouldered with the responsibilities of a dog that I did NOT count on, but did agree to keeping, because my husband had one while growing up....Yes, well, as much as I love the furball, he was the straw, the catalyst....I have all but given up.
Never once did I believe a dog could make me wish to not have children. Or that I'd treasure the workforce. Or even contemplate giving up pets for adoption, as clearly both my pets hate each other like Cats and Dogs...But such is my life.
I never thought I'd miss the Convenience of escaping my own home. Miss the convienance of a walk to the book store, a lecture, grabbing dinner at the grocery store, the local bar...anywhere but the 4 bedroom hell I feel trapped into. I never thought I'd miss a PERSONAL income that I could indulge in...one where I could buy a five dollar coffee, have a manicure pedicure because I felt like it, or just buy clothes, because they were cute.....those days are long gone.
No...Now I am in the EX-wife's bed, with the dog sleeping under it, who has scarred my cat away. My husband fell asleep in the living room, intentionally or not, I'm unclear. I am wide awake, at 4:30 knowing exactly where I am now, and contemplating, "So what am I going to do about it???"
5:56 AM | Filed Under | 0 Comments
A shadow of my former self....
Some might say my past haunts me. If they did, I'd agree. Here's why:
All too many times I begin to start a blog, or at least mentally come to the conclusion that "I should write in my blog," only to end up scratching the journey before it has ever begun. The reason is simple: I have nothing at all I WANT to write. The reasons are simple.
1) I live in the middle of isolation. I am uninformed about political matters, legal matters as applicable to my chosen profession, the general state of affairs of anything past the latest viral YouTube video...and it sickens me.
As it stands, the news I get is from Facebook; and, honestly, I haven't applied myself towards improving the situation. I have become "content." Blissfully ignorant in my small "tundra" that is too comfortable to be called "Frontier living" anymore. I play with my dog, and read novel upon novel, to fill my time. This of course is when I am not being occupied by my ever burdening Netflix and Facebook schedule.
So that, dear friends and followers is why I have remained painfully silent...Until now....
2) Awwww yes, it's not that I can't write of former lovers...(But, really, isn't that a yawn by now?) .....BUT...WAIT...oddly, they are EXACTLY what keeps me writing. Re-reading emails of summers and romance past, I am struck by why each love to this day lingers. The good ones supported me. The great ones pushed me...annoyed me...and motivated me.
And damn Them All to Heaven, a few text messages later, and I am annoyed beyond all belief that I have spent practically two months of doing nothing....expressly outlined in aforementioned bullet 1.
Maybe my misanthropic ways will return as the snow settles in, but I will try my damnedest to shake off the hold that Anonymity has put upon my brain.
With hopes of writing anything of interest, xoxo.
All too many times I begin to start a blog, or at least mentally come to the conclusion that "I should write in my blog," only to end up scratching the journey before it has ever begun. The reason is simple: I have nothing at all I WANT to write. The reasons are simple.
1) I live in the middle of isolation. I am uninformed about political matters, legal matters as applicable to my chosen profession, the general state of affairs of anything past the latest viral YouTube video...and it sickens me.
As it stands, the news I get is from Facebook; and, honestly, I haven't applied myself towards improving the situation. I have become "content." Blissfully ignorant in my small "tundra" that is too comfortable to be called "Frontier living" anymore. I play with my dog, and read novel upon novel, to fill my time. This of course is when I am not being occupied by my ever burdening Netflix and Facebook schedule.
So that, dear friends and followers is why I have remained painfully silent...Until now....
2) Awwww yes, it's not that I can't write of former lovers...(But, really, isn't that a yawn by now?) .....BUT...WAIT...oddly, they are EXACTLY what keeps me writing. Re-reading emails of summers and romance past, I am struck by why each love to this day lingers. The good ones supported me. The great ones pushed me...annoyed me...and motivated me.
And damn Them All to Heaven, a few text messages later, and I am annoyed beyond all belief that I have spent practically two months of doing nothing....expressly outlined in aforementioned bullet 1.
Maybe my misanthropic ways will return as the snow settles in, but I will try my damnedest to shake off the hold that Anonymity has put upon my brain.
With hopes of writing anything of interest, xoxo.
12:32 AM | Filed Under | 0 Comments
Quote of the Day
♫ "My homeboys tried to warn me, but that butt you got makes me so confident of your current well-being and future child-rearing potential." -Julia Longoria
12:36 PM | Filed Under | 0 Comments
Danger, MRS. Robinson, Danger...
After years of practice, I've learned sometimes relationships are sustained on letting things alone, ommitting certain key facts, and yes, even lying.
Likewise, some policies like Don't Ask, Don't tell make people just a little more comfortable. While I advocate for persons of any sexual preference to do whatever the hell they want, openly or otherwise, I see blatant honesty as the proverbial apple that ends all bliss. The tree of wisdom is wicked, indeed.
After all, no one really wants to know everything about another person. We say we do, but we don't.
You don't want to know your best friend has a drug problem. You never want to admit your mother drinks too much. And, no, you do not want to know where you stand in someone elses eyes should they learn you slept with a married man.
So, this afternoon I kept my proverbial mouth shut. The keyboard was assaulted by quick strikes to the delete button.....
What would a friend say to my improprieties? I didn't want to find out.
Dejavu. Two days ago. I hit that delete button in a very different way.
Status messages were flashing across my screen. An ex boyfriend had wanted to let me know "he's okay..." (Which translates to "I'm okay without you.") Status update reads: "new relationship."
My evil mind of an honest Eve, quickly creates a mental reply to this status. "Yeah bitch, but I'll always have his virginity..." I type "happy for you."
Status updates. ' Someones' twitter feed. 'His' blog updates I'll never be mentioned in... We say we want to know...but we don't. It's always the same. "I'm okay."
***
I reveal far too much for "normal" relationships...perhaps why I protect the ones I have so fiercely with edits and omissions.
***
I left my mother's house only two months after turning fifteen. A year after that, my father left me at a university dorm room. Before being able to legally drink alcohol, I had two bachelorette degrees. It was conducive to not needing to tell anyone anything. Mistakes get made. Move on. Say nothing. Succeed. Everyones happy.
***
Learning of another friend's wives latest degree...I mentally reply, "Did you ever tell your wife about us?" I type, "That's great. How is your wife?" I rationalize, no matter how much he knew I loved him, he went back to his family. I understood then, and I respect it now. Things left unspoken.
***
About to reveal my own mismanagement of such a former life -where I was never accountable to anyone but myself and never held the title of MRS. anyone- I paused. I edited. I deleted.
What would a friend say to my improprieties? I didn't want to find out. I suppose in the end he'd just shrug and smirk.
As I closed the chat boxes and entered back into the life of answering a husband's questions on who was that, and what was I talking about, I paused, edited, and omitted. Everyones happy.
Likewise, some policies like Don't Ask, Don't tell make people just a little more comfortable. While I advocate for persons of any sexual preference to do whatever the hell they want, openly or otherwise, I see blatant honesty as the proverbial apple that ends all bliss. The tree of wisdom is wicked, indeed.
After all, no one really wants to know everything about another person. We say we do, but we don't.
You don't want to know your best friend has a drug problem. You never want to admit your mother drinks too much. And, no, you do not want to know where you stand in someone elses eyes should they learn you slept with a married man.
So, this afternoon I kept my proverbial mouth shut. The keyboard was assaulted by quick strikes to the delete button.....
What would a friend say to my improprieties? I didn't want to find out.
Dejavu. Two days ago. I hit that delete button in a very different way.
Status messages were flashing across my screen. An ex boyfriend had wanted to let me know "he's okay..." (Which translates to "I'm okay without you.") Status update reads: "new relationship."
My evil mind of an honest Eve, quickly creates a mental reply to this status. "Yeah bitch, but I'll always have his virginity..." I type "happy for you."
Status updates. ' Someones' twitter feed. 'His' blog updates I'll never be mentioned in... We say we want to know...but we don't. It's always the same. "I'm okay."
***
I reveal far too much for "normal" relationships...perhaps why I protect the ones I have so fiercely with edits and omissions.
***
I left my mother's house only two months after turning fifteen. A year after that, my father left me at a university dorm room. Before being able to legally drink alcohol, I had two bachelorette degrees. It was conducive to not needing to tell anyone anything. Mistakes get made. Move on. Say nothing. Succeed. Everyones happy.
***
Learning of another friend's wives latest degree...I mentally reply, "Did you ever tell your wife about us?" I type, "That's great. How is your wife?" I rationalize, no matter how much he knew I loved him, he went back to his family. I understood then, and I respect it now. Things left unspoken.
***
About to reveal my own mismanagement of such a former life -where I was never accountable to anyone but myself and never held the title of MRS. anyone- I paused. I edited. I deleted.
What would a friend say to my improprieties? I didn't want to find out. I suppose in the end he'd just shrug and smirk.
As I closed the chat boxes and entered back into the life of answering a husband's questions on who was that, and what was I talking about, I paused, edited, and omitted. Everyones happy.
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1:55 AM | Filed Under | 0 Comments
Not enough ambien
Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell. --Edna St. Vincent Millay
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1:53 AM | Filed Under | 0 Comments
Red wine and ambien...
Watching The Unit is NOT a good way to fall asleep. The cat is making noise and I have jumpy nerves. I keep eyeing my nightstand, and think, my landlord would be pissed if I shot a mirror. Well, its a red wine and ambien night.
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12:49 AM | Filed Under | 0 Comments
One Unit Wife to Another
And the Lord God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a help meet for him.
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2:25 PM | Filed Under | 0 Comments
Good night, sweetheart.
Night two. The movers have come and gone. And seemingly so has my husband.
As I watched him teary eyed get through security, I bit my lip with resolve that it will only be two weeks.
Mind you, we've never been apart for longer than a night and the two times that happened were hard then, too.
But the moment last night, was seeing an elderly man see his elderly wife off through security just as teary eyed as I was. Like me, he waited until security was done and waived til she couldn't be seen.
I was tempted to ask this perfect stranger, "Does it ever get easier?" But his face said it all.
I knew then, the better question was, " Do you ever really want it to?" So I let myself cry, and was thankful I had a man to love enough to cry for when gone.
With that said, I'm taking ambien to sleep. Thinking, where he's at, its three o' clock in the morning...
http://m.youtube.com/#/watch?xl=xl_blazer&v=EL-D2K0jOIw
As I watched him teary eyed get through security, I bit my lip with resolve that it will only be two weeks.
Mind you, we've never been apart for longer than a night and the two times that happened were hard then, too.
But the moment last night, was seeing an elderly man see his elderly wife off through security just as teary eyed as I was. Like me, he waited until security was done and waived til she couldn't be seen.
I was tempted to ask this perfect stranger, "Does it ever get easier?" But his face said it all.
I knew then, the better question was, " Do you ever really want it to?" So I let myself cry, and was thankful I had a man to love enough to cry for when gone.
With that said, I'm taking ambien to sleep. Thinking, where he's at, its three o' clock in the morning...
http://m.youtube.com/#/watch?xl=xl_blazer&v=EL-D2K0jOIw
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12:55 AM | Filed Under | 0 Comments
Chapters and Changes
Time changes everything.
In only a SHORT four months, and an entire life preparing up to these moments, I find I am a complete stranger to even myself. Like a stranger, I can review my life.
In high school, all I worried about was getting gas for my truck. I had a loving boyfriend, who never kept me out past curfew, whom my dad approved of, and well, really treated me like the innocent girl I was. Getting pregnant was strictly taboo, but holding hands and kisses at night kept my mind at ease. I never remember not sleeping. I was fifteen when that life ended. That boy joined the Marines, is happily married, has two kids, and writes to me often enough to "keep in touch."
In college, all I worried about was getting a decent grade point average for the semester. I needed to keep my scholarship, and I was but for a few months in four years, a one-guys girl. I had a loving boyfriend, who I lived with after six months. As long as I didn't get pregnant, my dad approved of him, too. I approved of the nurse--and the shot--who made sure my dad stayed approving. I was twenty when that life ended. That guy went to dental school, made an inappropriate amount of money, and writes me often enough to "live vicariously through me."
In grad school, I had more worries. I was single for only a moment, before getting involved in what most people would call a "complicated" relationship. Three years of on-again, off-again, co-dependency, was nothing my father or anyone approved of. I was 24 when I thought that life ended. That guy resurfaced when I was 27...and true to our pattern it quickly turned off. I don't talk to that guy. Ever.
In law school, I worried about surviving. I was alone, no matter who surrounded me. Only in a brief moments did I find anyone worth sharing any part of myself with. A summer in South Africa, and having my books carried home for me, where the only joys I had those three years. I was grateful when I graduated at 28. I miss connecting with the good...
Now somewhere in between these years and experiences, there are areas of note... These are easily noted as chapters in my life, defined by the men in my life. I'm not quite sure why "Men" got to become the defining category, aside from the fact that the emotions and events in my life can be chronologically be placed in order by my moments with these men.
For Example...
Somewhere between on-again, and off-again, I found Someone who to this day remains a postcard and a smile. Via facebook, I readily envision that he has a home life and is happy. I dreamt about him last night, and wonder when I'll hear from him again.
Somewhere between that I ruined a friendship with a guy that probably truly loved me, because despite loving him, we never did find our moment. Despite my pleas, he will not talk to me.
Later, I can define one very brief solitary moment, with a soldier going overseas, that changed my life, for the one night I knew him. The stuff movies are made of. In fact, I refuse to watch "Dear John." Oddly enough, we write like the pen-pals we've become, sharing his wedding, our mutual on-goings, but mostly, our differing opinions on politics, religion, and complex social problems with no solution. His next email, is always the response of one of my own.
Finally, throughout everything mentioned above are the guy best friends. One is a best guy friend, who remained always and only a friend, whose girl of three years is now my confidant and was my maid of honor.
I now talk to her, and occasionally he answers her phone.
Only shy of a year, is another guy friend--who, despite its own complex need to wrapped in each others lives, we rarely make the time to be with one another. I only now think this is for the best. He is married, with a daughter-and that little girl makes his world. Surprisingly he'll fly across the country just to see me, but
I have to read his wife's facebook just to learn where he lives lately.
__________________________
There are missing pages, some ripped, some dog-eared for the reader of my life...but for the most part, it is those chapters have defined me.
Now I embark on a new chapter and I wonder how it would read.
In my married life, I worried about everything. I had a loving husband, who supported me in all that I did. He reminded me of my dad, and my dad approved. He treated me like the innocent woman I was. Getting pregnant was becoming a goal, and it seemed to only scare me.
Time changes everything.
In only a SHORT four months, and an entire life preparing up to these moments, I find I am a complete stranger to even myself. Like a stranger, I can review my life.
In high school, all I worried about was getting gas for my truck. I had a loving boyfriend, who never kept me out past curfew, whom my dad approved of, and well, really treated me like the innocent girl I was. Getting pregnant was strictly taboo, but holding hands and kisses at night kept my mind at ease. I never remember not sleeping. I was fifteen when that life ended. That boy joined the Marines, is happily married, has two kids, and writes to me often enough to "keep in touch."
In college, all I worried about was getting a decent grade point average for the semester. I needed to keep my scholarship, and I was but for a few months in four years, a one-guys girl. I had a loving boyfriend, who I lived with after six months. As long as I didn't get pregnant, my dad approved of him, too. I approved of the nurse--and the shot--who made sure my dad stayed approving. I was twenty when that life ended. That guy went to dental school, made an inappropriate amount of money, and writes me often enough to "live vicariously through me."
In grad school, I had more worries. I was single for only a moment, before getting involved in what most people would call a "complicated" relationship. Three years of on-again, off-again, co-dependency, was nothing my father or anyone approved of. I was 24 when I thought that life ended. That guy resurfaced when I was 27...and true to our pattern it quickly turned off. I don't talk to that guy. Ever.
In law school, I worried about surviving. I was alone, no matter who surrounded me. Only in a brief moments did I find anyone worth sharing any part of myself with. A summer in South Africa, and having my books carried home for me, where the only joys I had those three years. I was grateful when I graduated at 28. I miss connecting with the good...
Now somewhere in between these years and experiences, there are areas of note... These are easily noted as chapters in my life, defined by the men in my life. I'm not quite sure why "Men" got to become the defining category, aside from the fact that the emotions and events in my life can be chronologically be placed in order by my moments with these men.
For Example...
Somewhere between on-again, and off-again, I found Someone who to this day remains a postcard and a smile. Via facebook, I readily envision that he has a home life and is happy. I dreamt about him last night, and wonder when I'll hear from him again.
Somewhere between that I ruined a friendship with a guy that probably truly loved me, because despite loving him, we never did find our moment. Despite my pleas, he will not talk to me.
Later, I can define one very brief solitary moment, with a soldier going overseas, that changed my life, for the one night I knew him. The stuff movies are made of. In fact, I refuse to watch "Dear John." Oddly enough, we write like the pen-pals we've become, sharing his wedding, our mutual on-goings, but mostly, our differing opinions on politics, religion, and complex social problems with no solution. His next email, is always the response of one of my own.
Finally, throughout everything mentioned above are the guy best friends. One is a best guy friend, who remained always and only a friend, whose girl of three years is now my confidant and was my maid of honor.
I now talk to her, and occasionally he answers her phone.
Only shy of a year, is another guy friend--who, despite its own complex need to wrapped in each others lives, we rarely make the time to be with one another. I only now think this is for the best. He is married, with a daughter-and that little girl makes his world. Surprisingly he'll fly across the country just to see me, but
I have to read his wife's facebook just to learn where he lives lately.
__________________________
There are missing pages, some ripped, some dog-eared for the reader of my life...but for the most part, it is those chapters have defined me.
Now I embark on a new chapter and I wonder how it would read.
In my married life, I worried about everything. I had a loving husband, who supported me in all that I did. He reminded me of my dad, and my dad approved. He treated me like the innocent woman I was. Getting pregnant was becoming a goal, and it seemed to only scare me.
Time changes everything.
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