03-31-10

Auto-biographical geographical survey

Standing naked in front of the mirror today: hair pinned back and falling in tresses out of its pinnings and over and under and across my neck and collar bones with the wild disarray of this end of a 19 hour day. My eyes still sparkled with a mid-day intensity (or perhaps a late night mischievousness) and a strand of beige and wood beads wound it’s way around my neck once before traveling down my body a second time– laying against the curves of my breasts before stopping just above my stomach.

03-29-10

Fair Weather

Dear Maddness,

You are a much different monster than you were 7 years ago. Now when I write, people read. Now when I write about boys, they are very likely to read. And that, at times influences my ability to write candidly. I was thinking of starting again elsewhere, but that, too, would make me a hypocrite. I’ve decided to stay, and write candidly and if I offend then, dear reader, it was probably your narcissism that brought you here in the first place.

That is all,
Shell

03-27-10

The Weather is Here, Wish You Were Beautiful

There has been a lot of talk about Atlanta. It started in the backyard on a crisp star filled night. It was the first time I spoke with Tapan on a deeper level than:

T: can I see you naked?
S: no.
T: fine. You hate me.

He told me he wanted to see me in a bigger area where I would thrive, even if it wasn’t Nyc. He suggested Atlanta. I put it on my list below Pittsburgh, Houston and New York but before San francisco. It fell off just as quickly.

Soon i landed a great job locally after rationalizing staying here was good for the kids to be close to their family here. Soon the list was obsolete.

Now that I work with Bridgevine, I hear it all the time. Their satellite offices are in Atlanta. I lost bunny du jour to Atlanta. Now it’s back on the list, because apparently the list is back.

Why is the list back? Staying closer to their father was not the awesome idea it originally looked like. Things went missing in the house: vacuums, clothes, cooking utensils. He became a douche to the people (person)I was seeing.

My support system fell away to reveal itself as his support system and suddenly I was the douchebag, the “other person” in the relationship he lost in his indiscretions. But his choices and his lies weighed no match against my outsider status, and so it came to be: I destroyed everything by not wanting to play by his rules
Anymore.

My biggest mistake was staying, i set myself up in the weaker position, at least the first time I left I had control: this was on my terms. This time, however, I broke through some traps but still ended up in others. Just because you missed the snare trap by landing in the bear trap doesn’t mean you won’t still have to chew your own leg off. Nom. :(

So the list is back, because there is nothing left here amongst the ruins. My landlord won’t fix this candy coated pooh of an apt with walls so thin you can hear a fly sneeze. I have no one to spend holidays with and despite spending 100 hours a week with my kids, I am constantly berated by my ex as “not wanting to spend time with them” when i need a weekend off. The kids tell me I’m mean, cry for their grandmother and father because they don’t agree with a parent actually acting like a parent… And I am done.

Perhaps I am confusing a glimmer of stability as the whole shebang. Maybe this puddle is just an oasis in a five year dessert of insanity.

Then again, maybe it will end up being just another decision I end up regretting. The new list: Houston, Atlanta, Pittsburgh…as if the choice will ever ultimately be up to me. Oft.

03-27-10

Now. Change.

The actress breaks down in monologue picked up by two monitors on stage. The audience laughs as she shares the story of her husband leaving her for a geriatric grandma with a fake hip.

I’m not laughing. I’m breaking down in tears. Act 2, Scene 8 of I Love You, You’re Perfect, Now Change struck a little too close to home.

Follow that by the scene “Funerals Are For Dating” where they talk about life after the person you spent your life with passes away, and I might have been the only person crying at a comedy in years. (i definetly was the only one carrying a cycle helmet instead of a handbag, but that is a different post entirely.)

Overall it was a cute show, I had no idea what it was about going in. One of the benefits of going to a show alone is you get great seats. One of the negatives: there really wasn’t one. It’s funny how the fates can put you where you need to be at the exact moment you need to be there to hear the exact thing you need to hear when you need it most… Even if it happens to mean you in the darkness of a stuffy, mothball and old cologne washed theatre laughing and crying and laughing to one of those cheesey kitch shows you always scoffed at.

03-26-10

Exit stage left

Chris left. The last I saw of him was a little Bugg nose hanging out the window of his car at the intersection at work before I turned and he drove on to find whatever happiness he is searching for closer to his family.

I had a brief moment of sadness, where the floor of my heart dropped out and shattered on the pavement of the parking lot as I walked away this morning. I use to hate those moments, the good byes. My mind always trips into surreal romance mode. I always hear “this is the part where…” and it usually involves the hero coming to his senses, sweeping the heroine off of her feet and the semblance of some sort of happily ever after. That moment use to tear me apart, but it’s just the after taste of a strong drink. It’s meant to be rolled across your tounge and savored, it’s meant to burn going down.

Today, as I drove lola over the bridge towards the beach, I realized: this was my life. No striving for something more, something else, something different. A third of my life belonged to me, the rest to my priorities. I can spend it how I want. Tonight, martinis on the beach and a show. Next week, a flight to Atlanta, after that I could hop a flight for anywhere. This is what I wanted back after all those years. I have my freedom.

03-20-10

Glass Half Broken

Dating as a single mom– not nearly as fun as it maybe perhaps was before (was it? Ever?). You still have those delicious love drunk moments where the world only revolves for the sheer pleasure of the two of you basking in each other’s presence. Only now the earth lurches to a sudden halt the moment the other person realizes you’re packing… Lunch boxes and diaper bags as opposed to heat.

Then again I guess pulling kids on a guy is a lot like pulling a gun on a person: the opportunity to scurry, tail between legs, whining into oblivion never looked as intoxicating to a person as it does once you find yourself dropped into Easter Bunny day with a pair of hopped up gluten (thanks to the ex) fiend preschoolers.

I don’t blame you. We are all more accepting of certain situations, just like there are dog and cat people, there are kid people too. I, for instance, am not a dog person. Ask anyone who knows me and they’ll tell you: it’s the smell. And it seems like every single guy has one, like they gave up on bitches of the human variety and went for a more managable medium. If I pet your dog, awesome. If I curl up with ‘em: you’re in. If I let him kiss me on the mouth and buy him presents then you’re fucking golden, and if you tell anyone: you’re a deadman :).

What it boils down to is accepting the situation at hand, and eventually it grows on you, you grow from it and you become…drumroll… A better person in the end (which is easily the point of any relationship into which one enters).

All I’m sayin’ is… Before you are so quick to judge, ask yourself “what is the other person accepting of me?”

03-18-10

(bunny)(bunny)

 You’ve been waiting for me to write this. I’ve been waiting for a moment I could. Now that it is here I lay in bed, watching the sunrise from my bed, alone, without you. I’m waiting for the house to come alive with little feet and cuddle hugs, far away from the breadown and anger that follow home two confused little girls with tear streaked cheeks.

In the morning, i’m not thinking about broken landlords, broken mailboxes, broken banks. All I see is you and your upcoming trip to Atlanta and how you expect a girl to survive on words and air alone when you’re not there. Happiness is not the consumption of heat and soul and flesh. And it’s certaintly not in the ice bath of your memories.

I’ll miss you,
but we all have to find our own gravity.
 

03-05-10

Painting the town red…and then psycho.

I had a great date tonight. I mean, I’m not sure if it was a date but I kind of hope so. Now mind you, angry chef boy tried to ruin it (and did an excellent attempt) by doing what he does best: being angry, and tonight: psychotic. Oh well, good show angry, but you were not center stage tonight.

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