Confessions Of A Cocktail Napkin

Forgiveness

2011-10-20T23:26:00.001-04:00

Though I should be writing the Reading Clinic Report due tomorrow evening for grad school, my heart and head are so full that I need to write, to relieve some pressure of swirling emotions so that the logical side of my head can come out to work. It's been awhile since I've allowed myself to open the door and step into the fog of grief. At least two weeks. It feels like progress-- not that long ago, I couldn't go two hours without being hit by pain. I'm in therapy, once a week daily, and it helps. I'm focusing on me--doing the things that I need to do, and right now they primarily include working towards my Master's and achieving tenure at my job.

This week, my T started to talk about forgiveness--if I could forgive Apache for the past year of pain. I can forgive him for a lot of things. I can forgive him for cheating on me. I can forgive him for recycling me over and over again. I can forgive him for promising me a future and then taking it away from me. I can forgive those things because I know that his deployment has a major factor in this because things were different with him immediately off the plane. I can forgive because I love him and his family and I'm so very grateful that I helped him come home. I meant the last thing that I said to him-- I hope that he can find happiness one day inside of himself, without another person.

I can't forgive being abandoned and I can't forgive him allowing her to hurt me. Being abandoned--blocked from Facebook and left without a way of contacting him--outside of email-- hurts because it makes me feel like he doesn't care about me at all. Not a day goes by where I don't wake up and wish that I could talk to him about his day. Outside of the relationship aspect, I miss that connection and friendship that we had. He understood me and he didn't judge me. How could he block that all away without another thought?

My therapist suggested something that I never thought of before. Could the silence--the blocking of all contact be Apache's greatest act of love for me? He knew that our relationship was destroying me, cell by cell. He knew that I had been put on heavy duty anxiety meds at the end of our relationship. He knew that my body was starting to break down from the mental and emotional toll. I know that he had conversations with friends and family about how I didn't deserve to be hurt like that. He even told me that--one night after had texted me while we were broken up-- he said that he knew he should just let me move on and heal.

Is that what he's doing? Removing himself from my life because he knows me well enough to know that I won't heal or get over him while in contact with him? Could the angry, cold exterior really be a way of protecting me from him? And, we had recycled so many times, could he had known that the only way for us to break up--which no matter how much it hurts, I know that we needed, though I wished for a temporary breakup--was to go completely no contact?

In all reality, this is probably the denial talking. I'm sure he's moved on and that's the reason for the silence. I'm sure that I never cross his mind, and when I do, it's with anger. I don't know what the reality of the situation is. How he truly feels about me and why this happened the way it did. I know that it is best for me to believe the worst-case-scenario answer-- to understand that he hates me and i deserve it and that is not going to change. Not now. not ever.

Removing myself from the dramatic equation

2011-10-03T03:02:00.000-04:00

Remember those equations in high school or college math that no matter how hard you try you will never be able to solve. It doesn't matter how hard you try or how many formulas you apply to try to understand, you won't because something are just unsolvable?

My life has been like that over the past year. So many different equations in all areas of my life that have been impossible to solve, and I haven't made a move on them yet. Breaking up with Apache forced me out of the biggest unsolvable equation, but there were other negative relationships that I've been dealing with over the past few months. As I may have mentioned, I'm seeing a therapist who has been invaluable over the last few months. One of the biggest things we have talked about, other than my pain about Chris, has been how I seem to find myself at the center of drama. And we've worked on strategies about how to get out of that. It's a strategy I call "removing myself from the equation." As Susan says, "Let 'X' equal someone else for a while."

The last negative situation in my life has been the situation with my roommate (Cruella) and I. I moved in with Cruella, a fellow teacher, in June, just after my breakup with Apache. Things weren't perfect from the beginning, but i figured they'd smooth over. They got worse after she had her scumbag boyfriend move in "temporarily" in mid-August. Temporarily, hah. yeah right. Things came to a head this weekend after the condo association sent us a letter citing us for having two dogs; both are hers. The complex only allows one, and, furthermore, she walks the dogs on the property, which is a no no, even though she cleans up. Talking to her about it this morning, I found out that our landlord asked when I was moving out, because apparently Cruella told her I was only there "temporarily." NEWS TO ME! I politely told her I would be out by the end of the week, packed up my clothes and that cat, and went to my parents. Removing myself from the equation. It's for the best, because the drama situation is only going to get worse, because she has no plans of getting rid of either dog, and the association is pissed.

In other news, I'm sorry that I haven't been on as much. Being back to teaching has made me a hermit as I struggle to juggle work, grad school, and seeing Magic. Its near impossible to juggle all three most days, especially when I'm depressed, as I have been on and off. As for my weight, I'm doing the best I can. I really don't have enough time to make it to the gym consistently, but I've just been trying to watch what I eat. I know that I'm gaining, cause the pics I took today with my friends at today's Renaissance Faire visit look hideous, but I'm doing what I can with what time I have.

Shove It

2011-09-10T08:35:00.000-04:00

1.) Write about a time you ~~shoved someone~~ were shoved.

I can't recall ever actually shoving someone, so I'm changing the writing prompt. Hah.

I have a little sister who I affectionately call "Piglet." My mother calls me Pooh Bear, and so sister has become Piglet. She's 22, and due to a febrile seizure at the age of 16 months followed by a severe concussion at the age of 8, she's intellectually disabled. Piglet is MUCH taller than I am (5'9'' at least, and now weighs over 350). She's a big girl, and doesn't know her own strength. Shadow (my cat that she has staked a claim on) is a saint because Piglet schleps her around like a sack of potatoes. Think of Elmira from Looney Tunes.

Anyway, the day before eighth grade, Piglet and I got into a fight over something. And started fighting in the kitchen. As most women with sisters know, brothers are not the only ones that get into nasty, physical fights. At the height of the fight, Piglet, who was about my height even though she was in the fourth grade, shoved me. I staggered backwards, expecting to land into the wall behind me. However I kept falling, like Alice down the rabbit hole, tumbling down the cellar stairs before landing on the concrete at the bottom. By some miracle, I didn't break my neck. But on the first day of eighth grade, I got to sport an awesome black eye.

I haven't attempted to get into a fist fight with Piglet since. I keep my sisterly torture reserved to verbal insults or annoying pokes now. And if she feels the need to clobber me, I have the good sense to take it without defending myself, lest I ended up going for another ride down the cellar stairs.

Check out more writing prompts at Mama's Losin' It!

Chosen by a Book

2011-09-08T21:49:00.002-04:00

Have you ever felt kinship to a book—your body, heart, and soul propelling you to devour every word because you feel like you are reading the truths of your own life spelled out on paper? That’s how I felt when I picked up Chosen by a Horse by Susan Richards. In the book, Susan talks about how the unexpected adoption of an abused horse named Lay Me Down inspires her to overcome years of emotional neglect as a child, an abusive marriage, and destructive behavior to find the courage to love others again, and, most importantly, love herself again. (Though I know I should technically call her Richards, I can’t—her writing is so open and honest, that I can’t help but feel I know her). Chosen by a Horse was Susan’s first published book, and she followed it up with Saddled and Chosen Forever. Saddled is about how Georgia, the mare that Susan adopted, helped Susan pull through clinical depression and alcoholism, to finding her family. I read the book in less than twelve hours, and read the other two books equally as quickly. I didn’t like Chosen Forever as much. Perhaps because it wasn’t as centered on the horses as the other two were, perhaps because Susan falls in love in the book, and I’m shying away from anything romantic these days, perhaps because some of her scenes take place on Little Cranberry Island, near the island that I spent a week with Apache’s mom last summer, and where he and I vacationed this winter. That wound is still too fresh.

It sounds cheesy, but reading these books about Susan coming to discover the truths of her own strengths and weaknesses has helped me to see my own truths. I’m learning, slowly, day by day to spend the time I have on this earth doing things because they make me feel good inside, not because they might convince other’s to like me. I’ve been trying to buy love from people, in a way, because I truly do feel, though I know it’s wrong, that I won’t be loved any other way. But looking back over the past 25 years of my life, and the past five years of relationships, the three men that I tried to “buy” with my steadfast devotion are gone. Trevor and Apache refuse to speak with me, and Jay is happy in his own relationship with DogFace. I’ve chosen relationships with broken men, hoping that once I saved them from the demons that haunt them, they would love me unconditionally the way I cared for them.

It’s time to love myself; to stop putting so much effort into finding love of another, and into loving myself. As Susan writes in Chosen Forever: When you're doing what you're supposed to be doing in this life, amazing things can happen."

So here I am, doing what I want to do because I want to do it. For me, that means spending time with Magic. Last week, since Hurricane Irene had knocked out power to most of my area and the start of school was delayed—I spent most of my unexpected time off at the barn. I hauled hay and water, rode Magic, relaxed in the hammock hung from two oak trees just outside his paddock. On the first day, after the horses had been couped up for 48 hours inside, Sin and I trucked the horses down to the 50 acre pasture. I took of Magic’s halter and watched as the herd of six Arabians galloped across the paddock, stretching their stiff legs, out of sheer joy at having once again having the freedom to run. That’s how I feel now. Free from the drama of keep a relationship alive with someone that thought nothing of disrespecting me and casting me aside. Free from the shame of staying so long. Free from the countless hours I wasted catering to him and mourning him.

I’ve owned Magic, raised him for five years this weekend, and he changed me in a way that no one else has. Owning Magic means that I have to sacrifice some of the frivolities that other women my age have. There are no weeknight bottles of wine, or Friday/Saturday nights at the club. And that’s okay. Because Magic has been there for me through the worst moments of my life. The night that Trevor yanked my engagement ring off my finger, and went to his mother’s, never to once again sleep in the home that we had made together, I slept in Magic’s stall. Huddled beneath a horse blanket ontop of a thick bed of sawdust, I never once questioned my safety. Magic was there the summer I had the abortion. I saw him every day that summer, and he brought me back from a dark place I hoped I never would see again. And he was there for me through what Apache did to me, and this summer helped to remind me of who I was before, and who I still am today.

Some people disagree that animals can love, and I challenge them on that. There’s no other explanation for the way that animals act with “their” people. How Magic breaks away from the herd to join me near the fence when he sees me, or my cat, Spooky, snuggles onto my chest when I’m laying in bed, purring so hard his drool wets my pajamas. He is a shy cat, and doesn’t act like that with anyone else that he’s known almost as long, people who are as eager to pet him. Nope it’s me he prefers. If only human males could remember the loyalty that their feline and equine counterparts displayed.

Part of being free again means that I have mental space. My phone is quiet now. When Apache was in Afghanistan, we emailed back and forth constantly. I saved every email, in case the unthinkable happened. 6,000 emails in the nine months that he was there, not including the hundreds of instant messages that we shared whenever he was able to get on the computer. I still have those emails and conversations. His body may have come back from the desert, but the man I loved, he died out there. I’ve come to accept that.

I’ve come to be okay with the quiet. I’ve stopped watching (most) television. I’ve started reading again. Today I started (and finished) The Help by Kathryn Stockett. It was an amazing book, about 1960s Mississippi, told from the perspective of three women: one a young, white woman and two different African American women. The book, the author’s first, reminded me of E.L. Doctorow’s novels. Doctorow is one of my favorite authors—his story “Child, Dead in a Rose Garden” still haunts me. “There is no history except as it is composed. There are no failed revolutions, only lawless conspiracies,” Doctorow writes in an essay called “False Documents,” about how history is not absolute truth, because it is written by those in power, to benefit themselves, to cast themselves in the best light. His books, such as Ragtime, The Book of Daniel, and The March, write about history from the perspective of the underdog—the characters that have been written out of or vilified in history.

A major part of being free means that right now, I’m not dating. I’m not sleeping with men. I’m not even dabbling on dating sites. I’ve been hurt, badly, but yet I’ve felt this tremendous pressure to quickly find someone to replace Apache in my bed and heart because it would take the attention off of how much I’m hurting, and, perhaps, prove a point to him, if he asked about me. Maybe one day he’ll come to his senses, I’ve fantasized, and ask our mutual friends or his family, that I still talk to, about me. Aurora is incredibly happy with her new, handsome successful man, they’d say, shaking their heads. And he would feel the sting of pain that I felt, and realize Damn, I lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I didn’t realize what I had when I had her, and someone else did. But that’s all it is, fantasy. He will never again ring my phone, email me, or Facebook request me. Or if he does, it’ll be long past the time when I really want to hear from him. The sooner I accept that, rip off the remnants of this relationship like an old band aid, the better.

Even though I’m lonely, and wake up in the nights feeling cold because there’s no one beside me, I want to be alone. The wound is still healing. I think that’s why I’ve gained weight in the past four months (!) since our breakup. I don’t want to be attractive to men. Not yet. That’s hard. So many people try to fix me up with their friends, cousins, coworkers. But I’m not ready. People around here look at me funny when I say that. Not wanting to get married is considered a sin. In my town, it’s strange to see a 25 year old that’s not married or having children.

I’m working on combating the obstacles towards losing weight. I’m being more conscious about the hidden calories in things, and finding low cal alternatives for my favorite foods. I baked Weight Watchers Pumpkin Spice muffins (2 points!) to substitute for the 600 calorie monster, and found pumpkin-flavored coffee beans that are calorie free. My biggest hurdle to face is eating at night. Since Apacheleft for Afghanistan, and more so since our breakup, I’ve been sleepwalking to the fridge to eat. I know it’s an anxiety issue, and I’ve made an appointment with my therapist and APRN about medication. Hoping we’ll get it under control. I’ve promised myself that I’m going back to the gym this weekend.

I’m hoping that my life is on the up and up, dear reader. Tell me, what book (movie/tv show) that has made you take a good hard look at the truths of your own life?

Me, Myself, & Irene

2011-08-31T09:43:00.001-04:00

So in case you've been under a rock, the East Coast of the United States was threatened by Hurricane Irene this weekend. The weather people (whose salaries apparently are a direct correlation of how wrong they are about the weather) estimated that the storm would strike the Northeast anywhere from a Category 5 hurricane to a tropical storm.

I live in a small, rural town, and for the past week, old timers sat on the porches of the general store, sipping their moonshine lemonade from mason jars, strumming their banjos, reminiscing about the other great storms of the last century. (Alright, it was more like standing around the gas station Dunkin Donuts, sipping coffee next to their pickup trucks...we have hit the 21st century).

By the time Irene finally made her second landing near Coney Island, New York she had been downgraded to a tropical storm with 65 mph winds.

As for me, I bunkered in my apartment with Spooky early Saturday night armed with batteries, flashlights, and food that wouldn't go bad. I figured that this was the time for me to relax and do all those things that I say I never have time to do.

* Iron my work clothes (which I almost NEVER do)

* Watch the Bare Escentuals how-to DVD

* give myself a manicure and pedicure

* Finish rereading The Outsiders, which was my students' summer reading, and creating PowerPoints and study guides on it

* Catch up on The Millionaire Matchmaker, which I've been watching for both entertainment and educational purposes. Sometimes I feel like I should be taking notes. "The penis does the picking. He's not getting up off the couch for you!" And I've adopted her two cardnial rules ("No sex before monogamy! Two drink maximum!) as my own.

* Make chocolate caramel apples, which I had for the first time from Gertrude Hawk Chocolatiers. They are Ah-mazing! and I made one for each of my work friends to celebrate the start of the school year. Here's the recipe.

* Scrub the tile floors of the kitchen and both bathrooms on my hands and knees with a wire brush.

* Started tracking my points for Weight Watchers again. So far, I've been doing okay. My biggest struggles are ensuring that I figure out how many Points the things that I eat are BEFORE I eat them. I went to Dunkin Donuts yesterday and had a pumpkin muffin. I went to track it and discovered that the muffin had 600 calories. SIX-HUNDRED! OMFG!

The storm was over Sunday night, and, miraculously we didn't lose power/Internet. Unfortuantely, I'm one of the few lucky ones. Trees are down on powerlines all over my area, and driving around is pretty terrifying because there are trees/branches hanging over the roads. the first day of school has been delayed indefinitely because the school itself doesn't have power and it's too dangerous for the school busses to be travelling alot of the back country roads.

What did you do while waiting for Hurricane Irene to arrive?

Ten On Tuesday #1

2011-08-30T10:10:00.001-04:00

1. What is your favorite brand of shoes?

Flip flops- Reefs

Party Heels-     I can't wear them for very long because they HURT my feet, but Baker's, Carlos by Carlos Santana, Nine West, or Jessica Simpson.

Work Heels: Naturalizer

Boots: Naturalizer or Nine West

2. How old were you when you learned to tie your shoes?

I think kindergarten or first grade. Normal age, I guess.

3. How do you feel about freckles?

Freckles in and of themselves don't bother me. But I kinda have a policy against redheads, especially named Jen, and they all had freckles. It's not a stereotype, I've had three seperate MAJOR issues with psycho redheads named Jen. One of them trained my horse and tried to convince me that he was crazy and I should give him to her. NOT true.  One of them was married, and slept with my boyfriend (Jay) while her husband (Apache) was at boot camp. And I dated Apache, and he wouldn't divorce her, so she was always the white elephant in the room. And Apache cheated on me with the third redhead. So I have cause. If you're a redhead named Jen, I'm sure you're a great person. But I'm sure we wouldn't be good friends. We'd probably end up hating each other. Just sayin'.

4. I can count to ten in ___ languages.

Two. English and Spanish.

5. What is your favorite store-bought ice cream flavor?

I love Maine Black Bear by Gifford's of Maine. Yum! It's vanilla ice cream with raspberry swirl and dark chocolate candies filled with raspberry. Yum!

6. Were you in ballet or gymnastics as a little girl?

No :-( I always wanted to do dance as a child, but my parents said no. I don't know if it was because I was overweight or because my parents didn't have enough money for classes. I'm not sure. Nevertheless, let's add dance classes to the list of things I'll do differently when/if I'm a parent.

7. Who is your favorite Sesame Street character?

Big Bird!!!  His puppeteer lives locally, and I've met him a few times. I've always liked Big Bird though, even as a child. When I was entering kindergarten, my parents gave me the choice of attending the public elementary school or a Catholic one. Too young to understand the dogmatic differences, I chose public because they had Big Bird painted on the wall outside of the classrooms.

8. What’s your bedtime?

Whenever I feel tired. It's usually around 11. I've resolved to be in bed by 10 starting tonight.

9. Do you have any jewelry that you wear every single day?

I wear my claddagah every day and a pair of silver hoops.

10. Who is the bug killer in your household?

Spooky. He's constantly on the hunt for them. He keeps the condo pretty bug free, so I guess I can keep him.

Want to try your own Ten on Tuesday? Visit Roots & Rings

Weigh In Thursday

2011-08-26T00:03:00.000-04:00

Tonight I did something that I absolutely hate to do. But I did it for you, my loyal reader.

I stepped on the scale.

While it was on.

And looked down.

I would post a pic of myself on the scale, as proof. But I was naked. Trust me. That is NOT a pic you all want to see.

My weight, at 11:30 pm on August 25, 2011 is 221.6 lbs. Eek! At 5'3'', I'm morbidly obese.

I've been overweight my entire life, with the exception of a few years where I lost 100 lbs. My family is pretty hefty too, so it's nature and nurture.

One of the things I've done this summer is explore the possiblity of LapBand surgery. My insurance covers it 100%, and it's something I've considered for a while. I'd be lying if I said that losing weight wasn't about appearance, first of all, but it's more about keeping healthy. I have mitral valve prolapse and sleep apnea, all of which are affected by weight. My father is diabetic. It's also about family. My sister, is extremely obese, and I hope that if I lose the weight, she'll be inspired to pursue the surgery on her own.

So, I've spent much of the summer undergoing tests. To date, I've had an Upper GI scan, stress test, psych eval, and visited the nutritionist. I go back to the doctors on October 17 to review the tests and schedule surgery.

I chose LapBand over gastric bypass because I feel it's safer than gb. The surgery is done laproscopically, I'll be out for a few days, and they are not cutting my anatomy. They are simply wrapping a band around my stoamch, which creates a pocket, and then installing a port under my abdomen that allows them to fill or drain the band to adjust my rate of weight loss.

Has anyone ever had LapBand or had a friend/relative that did? I'm interested in hearing other peoples' experiences.

Skinimax

2011-08-24T23:43:00.002-04:00

This post is in response to #4 of Mama's Losin' It's August 22, 2011 writing prompts: ".) Write a post that begins and ends with the same sentence."

"You're fucking your cable guy?!" FireChick's voice was a high pitched squeal of excitement that echoed off the mosaic tiles arranged in seascape scenes all around us at the bar.

"Ssh, Firechick!" Thankfully the bar was completely empty at 1pm on a Thursday.

"You're fucking your cable guy?!" She repeated, albiet quieter. She popped the cherry from her Fuzzy Navel into her mouth and began working on tying the stem into a knot. "Dude, you should film that. That's pretty popular chick p0rn."

"He's not my cable guy. He's my grandmother's cable guy," As I said it, I realized just how wrong, on so many levels that statement was, and continued explaining. "And I'm not filming it. Besides, we've known each other for a while. He used to be the head chef at the restaurant I waitressed at. He dated Redheaded Slut. I just ran into him while he was hooking my grandmother's cable up."

"And you fucked him." Firechick's voice was full of glee. She spit the knotted stem onto her cocktail napkin, and slurped more of her drink. Her blue eyes twinkled at me. At least someone was happy that the cobwebs were being swept from my vagina.

I was a bit more skeptical. He and I had flirted through the line while I worked with him, and then when he left to take his new job, we hadn't seen much of each other. It just so happened that my relationship with Apache was on the rocks when I ran into him at my gradnmother's house. He gave me his phone number, yknow, just in case her cable went down unexpectedly, and after one of the many breakups that Apache and I had this spring. I called him. Cue sex on the air mattress that serves as his bed. Sex that felt amazing, physically, but I spent the night squezing my eyes tight and imagining Apache. To make matters worse, Apache called me that night. So, Apache and I got back together, I didn't see CableGuy for a month or so. Apache and I would break up. I'd sleep with cable guy. rinse. wash. repeat.

After it was clear to me from the Memorial Day breakup that Apache and I are done for good, I started talking more and more to CableGuy. With him, suddenly, I no longer closed my eyes and imagined Apache's face and hands. I enjoyed being with him. His smell. How he left early for work only to return with a muffin and coffee for me. The way he kissed my forehead at night, let me sleep in while he went to work, and how he came to snuggle with me in between jobs. To be honest, I could fall for him, but I'm not sure that's what he wants. I'm not even sure how to go about talking with him about exactly what this is. He doesn't text, and I don't hear from him every day. A huge part of me knows that if he was interested in a relationship, I'd hear from him every day. He also smokes alot of weed. I'm not so keen on that because of how much trouble I could get into if I was near him when he go caught.

I went for dinner at the restaurant where we worked at the other night with a friend and ran into CableGuy there. He came over, gave me a kiss, and then went to join his friends. As I sat back down with my friend, she looked quizzically towards his direction.

"Isn't that.....?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Does he still work here?"

"No, he's a cable technican now."

"You're fucking your cable guy?!"

What I did on (the last day of) my summer vacation.

2011-08-24T22:24:00.000-04:00

* Changed my blog layout/design, in anticipation of lots of blogging from here on out.
* Went to visit Sin & had coffee with her and her mother, SheWhoMustBeObeyed.
* Sin & I went for an hour long trail ride with Magic and one of her beautiful Lippizans.
* Gave Magic a bath and brushed him all up. He looked good enough for the show ring. He promptly rolled.
* Had a glass of wine and dinner at my cousins' house (okay, three glasses of wine.) Currently in a food coma on the couch.
* Contemplating going to CableGuy's (that's a story for another time...) house for the night. I'm not entirely sure if it's sex or a relationship he's looking for. Since sex with him is the B.E.S.T. I've had. ever. with anyone. I'll take it where i can get it. I'm following the Millionaire Matchmaker's rules of no sex before monogamy with anyone I'm seriously dating.... but who says I can't have a little fun until I've gotten a commitment?
* Reblocked Psycho, who is Apache's new girlfriend. I can browse Facebook in peace again. Thank god.

So what happened? (a long post)

2011-08-23T11:32:00.000-04:00

2 1/2 months out from the break up and after about 1 month of NC (no contact), I think I'm finally ready to tell you all about what happened.... without writing an entry that sounds like I'm vomiting emotions.

As followers of this blog know, I was dating a deployed United States soldier, who I refer to as Apache. Apache and I had, at least I thought we had, this amazing relationship that was able to survive a year-long deployment. We had discussed plans for moving in together, having children, the whole thing. I was completely and blindly in love with him, and thought that we could outlast anything. I knew that coming home he would have his own challenges reintegrating into society and dealing with PTSD. I resolved myself to stay by his side and help him through it all.

He came home in November 2010, and I knew things were different, immediately. He pulled away, and I watched as this close relationship we had fell apart. In January 2011, I found out that he had cheated on me with a girl he had been deployed with, and apparently he slept with her several times since he had come home. I confronted him, and we broke up. Two weeks later, he called saying how much he missed me and how much he had fucked up. We got back together.

We went through several on and off periods, usually when I found out that he had been sleeping with someone else. Why did i take him back? Because the army therapist i had been seeing kept telling me that this was "normal" for someone who had been deployed to act when he got home. So each time I confornted him about his infidelity, he would break up with me, and I would tell him "I love you. I'm here when you're ready." Two weeks later, he'd be back.

The last break up happened in May. It was the anniversary of his friend's death in Afghanistan, and he was going to the bar with friends. He had told me he was going to be getting extremely drunk, and I had told him I would pick him up whenever he wanted to go home. He never called, and when I checked his facebook the next day, I found out he had was extremely drunk and emotional, met this girl, told her his entire life story, and she took him and his roommate home, and he invited her out to dinner. I confronted him on it, and we broke up.

He didn't miss a beat and began seeing her. In fact, three days after the breakup, he told a mutual friend that "she made him believe in relationships again". WHAT?!?! He and I had broken up so many times that I didn't take the breakup seriously. There had been other girls, but he had come back to me. It makes me wonder how many of those other girls rejected him...I know at least one did.

Confronted by the reality of just how little respect for me he apparently has, I lost it. My ex wanted me to just fade silently into the background. I was angry and demanded explanations from him. We had been on and off so many times, that I didn't go no contact (NC). I carried on like nothing was wrong which had worked during push-pull before. And when I found out that he was going on a date with this girl, I was extremely intoxicated and resorted to the one thing I knew would hit him below the belt: I told him I was pregnant and that I was having an abortion. At the time, i wanted to make him hurt for all the times he had betrayed me & lied to me, humiliated me, and all the hurt I had endured since he had come home, after I had supported him through EVERYTHING he had gone through before, during, and after deployment. After I sobered, and realized what I had done, I came clean to him.

I still talked to him, and he would respond back to me... it was strained, but I was used to him needing a break, especially when he was stressing about something else in his life. I resolved to just give him time to come back.

A week after the breakup, I went to Washington DC with my students, and two things happened while I was gone. 1, a mutual friend of ours was struck by lightening and was listed in the newspaper as critical condition. 2. My doctor called me because they suspected a lump I had found in my breast the week before was cancerous. I contacted him for both those things, to see how his friend was, and to get support from him. He told me that his friend was okay, and told me he was sorry I was going through everything.

A week later, someone with a vaguely familiar name friended me on facebook. I accepted the friend request, and sent her a message asking how I knew her. While I was waiting for a response, I started browsing through her pictures. I found a pic of Apache and the new girl. The person who had friended me was her cousin. Right about that time, the girl sent me a message saying she thought I went to college with her. I sent another message back, telling her that didn't need the drama she was trying to bring, that dealing with the breakup was hard enough. She responded back that she didnt know what I was talking about...that my Apache had told the new girl that he had been broken up with me for months because I was "psycho." I responded back that she was sorely mistaken, we had been dating the night he had met her, and the new gf called me (my cell # was on FB). She was, at first, extremely sweet and apologetic, and said that she had no idea that he had a gf, and she would back off immediately. She must have confronted him. Apache texted me and told me how I had "ruined his life. And he never wanted to talk to me again." GREAT.

After that, I began receiving harassing messages from her. I really think that she had her cousin friend me to start drama between my ex and I to push us farther apart, and it worked. I didn't respond to her, and tried to keep my distance from him. After a month or so, I realized he was not coming back anytime soon, and a family friend of his told me that he had borderline personality disorder and sent me this link about how the BPD relationship starts. It was the perfect pattern of how our relationshp had started, and how his other relationships had been. I just wanted my things back, and would text him once a week or so to get my things back. She would respond every time from her phone-- acting extremely nasty, telling me how pathetic I am. Apparently, my ex is making me out to be the persecutor, and triangulating in earnest. I refused to engage with her, and wouldn't respond.

A month ago, I called him and left a phone message about my things. This launched a volley of threats and accusations from her. And then he called me back, with her screaming in the background, calling me all sorts of names and daring me to fight her. I had had it. I'm tired of being made to feel like I'm psycho for having developed anxiety/depression as a result of being in this relationship or pathetic for still loving someone I had been with for two years, and supported through a horrific deployment. Her words stung, and I grabbed my keys, and started driving the hour towards her house. My cousin, recognizing that I was about to get myself into a heap of legal/physical trouble, had her state police friends pull me over. I showed the troopers the messages from her, and they said that they would get involved.

A few days later, I got some nasty messages from my Apache about how ridiculous I was being for having the police involved to get my things back--things that I didn't need. I told him that it was not up to him to decide, and that I wanted to come get my things, or I would show at this house with a trooper. He said that I was "stalking" and "harassing" him (I had texted him only three or four times, and have purposely stayed away from the city he lives in.) And that he never wants to see or talk to me again, and if he does he would have the police involved. But I got my things back the next day.

Then, a week or so after, I get a message from the cousin:: "I'm not trying to get in the middle nut it's time for you to move on. Did you forget that I'm a nurse!? This breast ca bs is bogus. A dear friend and coworker of mine recently died suddenly of an undiagnosed cancer. It makes me sick to my stomach to think some one would use that to draw attention to themselves. I think it's time for you to move on and leave well enough alone. "

What the hell??!?!? I've said nothing to my ex since last week, why this? why now? the cancer was not made up, though luckily the operation I had two weeks ago to remove the lump came back negative for cancer. Thank God. But I wasn't about to call him and tell him that...

I blocked her on FB, and didn't respond. I'm not stupid. I know she's fishing for a reaction that she can use to make my exBPDbf even more upset with me. It makes me wonder, though, about how happy their relationship is. If it was the "perfect" relationship, she wouldn't feel the need to be this possessive or aggressive. Right?

Then today, I get a message from the girlfriend. Apparently, my facebook unblocked her last night (and I have to wait 48 hours to block her again): "Yes we are still together. You can quit stalking me. I can see when u block and unblock me. FYI."

I have half a mind to message back, but I do NOT need this shit. I want the drama to be OVER. All of this, is high school shit. I'm on the road to getting better, to finally letting him go and moving on. I have to focus on me, and do what needs to be done.

2011-07-12T11:35:00.002-04:00

I feel numb. To the tips of my toes. I'm numb about everything-- i'm even indifferent about what i want for dinner for godssakes. I dont leave the house. I don't shower. I dont drink. I dont ride I can't do anything alone. All i know is that I miss him I've thought of ways to just end the pain, but my friends and family don't deserve that. But the numbness is a blessing, because its covering a whirlpool of pain, anger, sadness so fierce that even when I peek under the cover, i hurt so acutely that takes me days to numb again. I want nothing to do with men. Relationships terrify me and make me throw up. Literally. Ive been on dates as of late and they end with me puking in the restroom. I cant even have casual sex. Trust me, Ive tried. It seems like a good idea and then I'm just counting sheep in my head begging for it to be over. And for somene who used to live, love, and laugh with tbeir whole heart, numb is a change. And the saddest thing is i've gone through break ups before. None of them have decimated me this completely. This is the fucking Hiroshima of break ups. Thinking about it, how much I loved h to be hurting this bad, this could have been an incredible love. But he doesnt care. He didnt even pause for a second to hurt. Hes got this new girl and he lets her abuse me, and any reaction I have makes me look bad. She concoted this whole facebook scheme to make me look like a stalker. She wanted me to fight her Saturday night. I drove down there but my cousin found me before i got there. Ive tried everything i can think of to make this better but nothing helps. Nothing. I've given up

2011-06-28T18:23:00.000-04:00

I've returned. To Summer. To blogging. To singledom. I'm not ready to talk about what happened between Apache and I after he returned from deployment, but I will. I'm really not okay with the break up, and my heart is shattered in so many pieces I'm not sure I will be able to piece it together, but I'm trying. Trying to be positive. Trying to focus on me. I'm dying my hair blond with pink streaks as I type this, and i'm in the process of purchasing a 2010 Mustang convertible.

More to come soon. I've missed you all!

Summer Harvest

2010-09-05T12:41:00.000-04:00

I am in love:

I have always loved fruit. But Raspberries and Blackberries were, for some reason, a fruit I never could get into. My friend and "surrogate mother" at work offered me some raspberries a month ago that she had lightly sprinkled with Truvia, since Splenda is made with chlorine. I tentatively popped a raspberry and a blackberry in my mouth:

LOVE

So now I cannot get enough of fresh raspberries and blackberries. I could eat a container of them a day.

Unfortunately, raspberries are currently retailing for $4.50 for a half-pint. Blackberries are $2.99. Still cheaper and much healthier than a pack of cigarettes, but nonetheless not so good on the pocketbook. I'm gong to go on a raspberry hunt today to see if the local orchards are selling them for cheaper.

Having dreams about making this champagne cocktail when Apache comes home.

What are your favorite summer foods?

I want...

2010-09-03T17:15:00.000-04:00

I SHOULD be working on grad school work right now, BUT my brain feels quite a bit scattered (it must the impending presence of Hurricane Earl) so I need to do a "brain dump" in the form of a blog post before I get down to business.

Me-- On my 5th Birthday

On October 11, I will be turning 25.And while I am not happy about being a quarter of a century old, I am happy about passing one more "checkpoint" to November 7 and Apache's homecoming. The only way I've been able to get through these months is by focusing on smaller pieces and making it to each one. Starting school again was one of the checkpoints, which I did this Monday. Now, I'm focusing on the month until my birthday when I can officially begin the countdown to his arrival in the States.

Focusing on my birthday has led me to focus on one thing. Birthday presents. So this is a me-me of all the things that I would love to find wrapped up in blue paper with silver bows beside some chocolate covered strawberries.

1. 2011 Mustang GT 5.0 Except in silver, please. Thanks :-) I've always wanted a Mustang convertible since I was young. When I bought my car in 2009, I was with Trevor and the insurance would have been outrageous. Now that almost 25 and dating a man, not a little boy, I could quite possibly buy one. So, I would love one of these with a blue bow in my drive way on my birthday.

2. Keurig Coffee Machine - I love coffee and tea. I rarely drink it cause I HATE making it. So I would love to have one of these puppies in my classroom to have some green tea whenever I want.

3. T&Co Horse shoe Good luck charm & chain. A horseshoe. from Tiffany. 'Nuff said.

4. A bouquet of sunflowers. Apache better come through on this. I LOVE getting flowers, and have NEVER been with a guy who thought enough of me (apparently) to give me flowers on my birthday. My lovelies got me a gorgeous bouquet of sunflowers for my birthday last year, but I want them from my man. damnit. I want romance. I know he's capable of sending flowers since I know he sent DogFace some on her birthday last year. Keeping my fingers crossed.

5. Tack Classic boots by The Original Muck Boot Company- High Cut- size 7.5. Having a horse in a New England winter and spring is cold, muddy business. And while Wal-Mart sells those lovely colorful welly boots, they are useless keeping your feet warm in the snow. These boots are amazing in mud and muck, and I want them! AND they come in hot pink or purple. <3

6. So if I get the aforementioned bouquet of flowers, I might consider purchasing this lovely number to help welcome Apache home.

7. My customized Reebok Easy Tone sneakers. Size 7.5

8. Tiffany Bead Earrings -- To match the necklace I already have. <3

Question of Etiquette

2010-08-25T01:40:00.001-04:00

I get it. Teenage pregnancy is now the way to fame. It was only a matter of time. After all, the adults have been doing it for years: Octomom, Kate Plus Eight (who I have grown to DESPISE, btw) and the Duggars, anyone? And with teenage-target fair like Teen Mom, 16 & Pregnant, Secret Life of the American Teenager, Knocked Up, and Juno, it is no wonder that teenage pregnancy is on the rise.

How do you react when a teen you know

announces she is pregnant?

I've searched Emily Post for this one, and I can't find a reference. I remember my well-bred grandmother telling me years ago, that you react to someone the way they react. Ergo, if she is happy, you are happy for her.

Trevor's stepsister, A, who is 18 (almost 19) just announced via Facebook that she is pregnant. I'm not sure how old the father is, who she is now engaged to. I know that she got a tattoo of his initials at the beginning of July, and she is seriously head over heels for him. I have no clue how long they've been together, but A has always fallen hard for her boyfriends. Her stepmother (who A lives with after the recent death of her father) is not the most strict parent-- she's long let A have boyfriends sleep over.

After talking to her sister (Trevor's half sister), M, I found out that A is trying to be responsible about the pregnancy. She has worked it out with her school that she can still graduate on time at the end of May-- the baby is due at the end of April. She and the father are getting married, and planning on raising the child. She's ecstatic, and I didn't feel it was my place to lecture her, especially in light of my own experiences. IMHO, I'm not her parents, and it is not my place to stage an intervention. I have NO idea if the pregnancy was planned, and perhaps that is a factor in the next section of this post.

So I left her a comment telling her "Congratulations!" I noticed tonight that Trevor's aunt, L, who I have always been very close with, even after my split from Trevor has deleted me off of Facebook. I have NO clue why. I haven't posted about Trevor in close to a year, and she still kept my mom as a Facebook friend. I'm assuming that the delete has to do with A's pregnancy. And if that's true, then how fucking juvenile is that ?!?!

It wasn't like I was supporting her going "YES! You should get pregnant!" and perhaps they are worried that all the positive attention that A is getting will cause M to think about getting pregnant as well. But that's a conversation they need to have with M.

Thoughts, readers? What would you have done?

Love the Way You Lie

2010-08-15T23:20:00.000-04:00

Heard this Rihanna/Eminem collaboration on the radio a few times, so I checked out the video on youtube, like I do with most songs I enjoy. Meghan Fox and Dominic Monahagn's chemistry portrays my life with Trevor more vividly than I ever thought possible.. down to the body language, broken walls, his ripped, strained wifebeaters and cheap wood paneling.

I haven't thought about Trevor in a long time, honestly. He's living his life without me, and whether I agree with it or not, its his life to lead. And I've found that level of connection and love again with someone who is mature enough to handle it. The video just disturbed me because of how hard it hit home. In retrospect, I can't believe I lived through 3 years of that, especially the end where fighting like that was the only way we could communicate. But I totally understand where they are at.. and am so grateful for what I have now.

Didja miss me?

2010-08-12T22:54:00.000-04:00

I'm back! The past few months have been a whirlwind of grad school, summer plans, gym appointments, and horse riding. I'm sorry for the hiatus-- I needed some time to figure some things out.

So, what's new with you all? I'll tell you what's new with me:

1. Apache & I are back together... it took a few days of separation to realize that neither one of us want to live without each other. We spent two days together before he left and we've talked every day since. Things are actually better after the "fight," as I've deemed it. His relationship with DF is undeniably over, and he is filing when he gets back. And that's something he's told her (i've seen the emails), his family, and me. He's removed her from the death benefits, and had it arranged to go to his family. He had her removed from his accounts (according to his sister and dad as well). He has been much more forward with his family about what we are to each other-- his parents, sister, and aunt have all commented about how much Apache has talked about me and how important I am to his life. He's encouraged me to visit them, and his mother invited me to Maine for a week starting next week....And we are moving in together when he gets home-- his idea.

Trust me, dear readers, that I have put him through his paces-- he was not immediately allowed back in and he's given me every reason to believe that this is what he wants.

2. I hired a personal trainer & I'm working on dropping weight... I've lost 12 since the middle of June, and I'm hoping to lose 25 lbs by my 25th birthday (October 11)... and then hopefully 40 by the end of November (when APACHE comes HOME for GOOD!!!!) :-D

I'm sorry for the lame post, but consider it a warm up before your irreverant Aurora returns! I'm glad to be back!

What you've done

2010-04-24T14:39:00.000-04:00

Trying to rip the blinders off. Trying to work up the courage to walk away, in part because I am not strong enough to give someone space if I want to be with them.

So this is an angry post, because right now I need to be angry:

What you've done to me:

* Convinced me to be faithful to you for four months while you were gone away.

* Made me dream about the day you'd be home, and buy clothes and prepare things for all these plans that we made. Movies we'd see...restaurants we'd visit..clubs we'd go to.

* Made me open my heart to your family... your sister, your parents, your extended family, and especially your nieces and nephew

* Lied to me about your whereabouts

* Made me feel like I'm not good enough because you chose this woman, who has cheated on you and fucked up your head so badly. Clearly, there is something wrong with me. At least, that's how I feel.

* Put me in so much emotional pain that it feels physical. I can't eat because I'm constantly nauseous. I can't sleep because I'm plagued by dreams. The physical pain in my chest hurts so much that I got a tattoo on my back yesterday, and I didn't flinch. not once.

* Made me love you. Made me believe, and I still do, that you love me too. Made me question WHY this is NOT enough.

2010-04-24T10:46:00.000-04:00

Sorry for my leave of absence. I'm back however, and unfortunately things are not going well.

Apache came home for his 15-day leave on the 13. I picked him up at the airport, we had dinner, and had a great night in the hotel. We went out with friends on the 15th and the 16th, and spent both those nights together.

Before he had come home, he had told me he was going to need a few days to himself, and he said he planned on going to Maine for the weekend. My first hint that something was going on: he didn't want me to stay with him Friday night. Said he had to get up early to go up to Maine. Perturbed, I let it slide especially since he promised me that I would spend the night with him Tuesday night.

He goes to Maine, and I just get this feeling that something is not right. Number one, his trip to Maine happened to fall on DogFace's days off (they have a four-off, four-on rotation). Number Two, I see Jay driving past my house alone. I talk to him Monday night, and he says that he will be home from Maine on Tuesday around noon and he'll pick me up at 3.

On Tuesday, he comes home from Maine and picks me up to take me to his aunt's house for dinner. I have a bag packed, but he tells me that he is still really wiped out, and wants to be alone that night as well. What.the.fuck. Now I KNOW something is going on. We go to his aunt's and he shows everyone that tattoo that he has gotten. In his hometown. on Monday. So now I know he's lying, and I can pretty much figure out what is going on.

We get in his car, and I go to punch into the GPS the address of the movie theater we are in route to. Last address punched in? a hotel in his hometown.

So, I confront him because now I know. The conversation pretty much entails him telling me he's in love with me. and in love with her. and he just can't be with us both anymore. Guess who wants him back? Yeah, Dogface. And he's married to her. He's not married to me.

So, I cry, and plead, and beg. Because I know he's making a MAJOR mistake. And I do some not-so-cool things. Like call Jay and DogFace and scream at them. DogFace ends up figuring out that Apache has been dating me. And she freaks. Tells him she wants a divorce. and begs Jay to take her back. Jay won't take her back until she files for divorce, which hopefully will happen next week.

Where does that leave me? Apache is incredibly guilt ridden because he's convinced everything is his fault. Her leaving him in the first place? His fault for joining the army and going to boot camp. Her leaving him for good? his fault because he was weak and didn't have "strength, courage, and faith. The strength to wait, the courage to be alone, and the faith in what {he}had would come back. {He} failed at all three miserably". His fault for lying to me to protect me from being hurt.

Where does that leave me? I don't honestly know. I love him. He and I met yesterday at a park and I gave him a letter I wrote which basically said that I understand he's in pain. I understand he loves her, and I knew that the day would come when she would try to take him back, and the day would come when he would have to get over it. I understand he needs time to heal and process. And I said that I wanted to be here for him. That I hope we can be together again when he is free to be with me-- emotionally and legally. he hugged me. Told me he loved me. That he just is in so much pain he just needs to be alone.

I felt better about things after that. Then I did what I shouldn't have done. I hate being a stupid girl. I texted him this morning asking him if he thought we would be together some day. And he lost it --told me he was in so much pain he couldn't deal with this. That he needs for me to leave him alone.

But I'm in pain too. I miss him. He was my best friend and my days feel so empty without him. I want to try and help him get better. Wanna show him that I'm here and I wouldn't do that to him. That he needs to stop feeling so guilty about this because its not all his fault. That's why I texted. But I can't do that anymore. If I keep doing that I'm just going to drive him away from me.

I'm shitty at this giving space thing. Advice?

My philosophy on life circa April 2010

2010-04-02T13:05:00.001-04:00

My philosophy on life these days is the same as my philosophy on running on the elliptical: keep your head down, focus on doing it the best you can, and know that each second ticking by brings you closer to the end.

My life has been so busy these days. I started coaching softball, and while I love being outdoors playing in the dirt with the kids, practice adds 2+ hours to my day. I get out of work at 2:30, practice til 4:30, then off to the gym til about 6:30 or 7. I feed Magic on my way home from the gym, and then get home. I had been waiting until I got home to eat dinner, but that was wrecking havoc on my blood sugar (I'm Hypoglycemic). So now I pack breakfast, lunch, and dinner with me in the morning, and eat dinner after practice and before the gym.

At least, I try to get to the gym:

The entrance to my gym on Tuesday.

There has been no softball and gym for most of this week due to the intense amounts of rain here in northeast Connecticut. As many of you may have seen on the news, there has been a crazy amount of flooding here. Luckily, my town was spared the flooding, but some of my friends and family weren't so lucky. It's odd because I just turned in my thesis proposal a few weeks ago to write a book based upon the great flood of 1955, that totally wiped out large areas of this state. The amount of rain we have gotten in the past week exceeds the rain sent down by that flood. Were it not for a network of dams put in after the flood of '55, the flooding would have been even more widespread.

I find sporadic moments during the day to do grad school work (planning periods, after I get home from work, if softball is canceled). I always feel like I'm playing "catch-up" with one area of my life or another. We have the day off for "Good Friday" and I am at my dad's office working on, what else?, grad school work. It feels like a never ending task but I learned in college to just keep my head down and tackle one thing at a time.

I'm tackling one day at time. Missing Apache terribly these days, especially since it's getting warm, and I'm totally an adventurer when it gets warm: ie: let's drive to the beach, let's road trip, let's go for a hike...sort of thing. Wishing he was here to adventure with me. :-/ He comes home in less than a month, so I know that each time I fall asleep alone it means one less day until he comes home. And I know that this is just a 5k compared to the marathon that lies between his leave and when he comes home for good. 6 months. *whistles* wow.

That's my life. in a nutshell. sorry for the lack of posting lately-- we have been put on notice that computers at work are to be used for school-related business only, and yes they are checking. So that means no more 20sb, or Blogger, or even opening my personal email at work. NOTHING.

Reasons why texting is evil

2010-03-19T15:28:00.000-04:00

One of the worse things about this whole deployment thing is having to develop and sustain a relationship through email. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm totally grateful to be able to communicate with Apache pretty much constantly, rather than waiting for weeks for a letter- the whole thing is a double edged sword.

Some of the main problems:

* Freepin' IMPOSSIBLE to determine someone's mood over texts. For instance, yesterday Apache sent me short, one line emails (we use email as texting) and so me-being-me, I take it as I am annoying him and he doesn't want to talk to me anymore. But short texts don't always mean that. It could mean (as I discovered upon asking him if he was sick of me) that he's tired, frustrated (not with me), or suppossed to be working (he does this often). HOW are you suppossed to determine any of those things over text as you would from seeing someone's face or hearing someone's voice. You can't.

Note: please don't be commenting telling me that he really is trying to break up with me, because I know he's not since I got two seperate messages while I was asleep (during his day) that said how much he loved and missed me. So there *sticks tongue out*

* Same goes for silences. Suddenly the conversation stops dead in its tracks. Oh No! I think Did I say something wrong?! Maybe this is me--I've been trained by Trevor and Jay to assume all silences are the silent treatment. OR I think he's spending his time talking to other girls, like DogFace, or some girls on base because some ~~bitch~~ woman told me she hoped he didn't cheat on me while he was in Afghanistan. Thanks for introducing that thought into my already worried head. However, with Apache being deployed, it could be he's being spun up, suddenly got busy, fell asleep, or the cell phone service went down. again. And I feel like I'm holding a reciever, listening to empty silence going "Hello? Hello? Helllllllo? Helloooooo?"

* Or how about miscommunications. You know, those things that you say meaning to be a joke, but don't get taken as a joke? Yup, happens all the time to me. For instance yesterday Apache and I were discussing meeting at the airport, and he was talking about how he hopes I'll be wet when pick him up. And I was like "of course. hope you're still attraced to me." I meant it as a self-effacing joke. And he was like "I really wish you wouldn't say shit like that to me." Annnnnnnnd then he fell asleep. So I panicked thinking he was mad at me, giving me the silent treatment. He wasn't mad (he sent me an email in the middle of our night to tell me so).

I guess, I'm just frustrated because I didn't really get to talk to him much today, and I started off the day thinking he didn't want to talk to me, and then found out his cell service was acting funny. I'm sure it's just a mood, and I'll wake up to a text from him telling me that he loves me, but it still makes me wicked anxious.

Maybe I should go back on Wellbutrin for anxiety.... hmm..

TMI: An Officer, not a Gentleman

2010-03-18T00:08:00.000-04:00

The eagle tattooed on his muscular back flexed as NavyBoy lit his thin, black cigarette, staring out over the water, watching the July sunset reflected in the still expanse. Inside the lake house, I watched him through the screen, warm water dripping down my legs as I washed away the last traces of my virginity. A Naval petty officer, NavyBoy was short—a requirement for his job on a submarine—and muscular like a boxer, with closely cropped black hair and bewitching brown eyes.

I stooped to grab my negligee, discarded on the floor, so I could join him on the porch. Though my house was the only one on this side of the lake, I didn’t want any sunset fisherman to catch more than he expected.

“Hey, baby,” NavyBoy drawled behind me. I stood up, thinking that he had snuck inside, and was surprised to see him still outside, a cell phone pressed against his ear. “Nothing much…Just at the Rec Hall with a bunch of the boys watching the NASCAR race…can I call you back later, baby?...love you too.”

“Who was that?” I was back in bed when he came back inside, the thick smell of his clove cigarettes lingering with him.

“On the phone? My sister.”

“Bullshit. I know you’re from the South, but I highly doubt you would call your sister ‘baby.’ Do you have a girlfriend, is that it?”

“Nope,” he smirked like he had just said the punch line to a joke he hadn’t asked.

“Your wife?” He didn’t wear a wedding ring, but those Navy boys were tricky—they usually left their wedding rings and fidelity back on base.

“Don’t got one of those yet.”

“Then who the fuck was she?!” I asked angrily. He sighed as if to answer, and it suddenly became clear “What do you mean, you’re getting married?”

I sat up on the faded sheets, pulling the coverlet to my chest. The stiff blue polyester scratched against nipples still swollen from earlier.

Standing above me, torso bare in the waning candlelight, NavyBoy shrugged once, casually, his dog tags clinking together gently.

“You never asked.” There was no trace of guilt in the deep Lousianan drawl that had seduced me here. He may as well have been accusing me of not asking his middle name.

“I certainly did ask you the first night I met you.”

“You only asked if I was married or had a girlfriend. I’ve got neither—she’s my fiancée.” He shrugged again. I struggled to my feet, trying to keep the blanket firmly wrapped around my body as I searched for my lingerie and clothes. My bra was still missing—NavyBoy bemusedly retrieved it where it lay flung over a lampshade.

“Dawlin’ I done told you I was only passin’ through here. I thought you and me wer just passin’ a good time,” He lounged on the bed, wrapping a strong arm about my waist to pull me back, jeans halfway up my legs, onto the bed with him.

“I thought we were more than that,” I sniffed, defeated. I couldn’t even blame him; I hadn’t asked if he had a fiancee. “I wouldn’t have just given you my virginity if I had known that.”

“Dawlin’, I’m getting stationed in Jacksonville in a month. You know it ain’t gonna work out between you and me. So why don’t we just have a lil’ fun in the meantime,” He kissed me again, trapping my protests against my tongue.

For more Indecent Exposures, check out the other entries at TMI Thursday.

Wicked Games

2010-03-17T00:38:00.000-04:00

So one of my assignments for my grad school was to write about a sexual experience in your genre. Guess what I'm non-fiction so I had to write about a sexual experience of my own. So I chose an event that happened at the end of the December. A note to Apache's sister-- this about your brother. So read if you dare (and won't think I'm a skank by the end of it). Everyone else-- I'd appreciate your feedback on this!

The club was hot and dark. It smelled like alcohol and sweat and sex. Milton’s Pandæmonium—the palace of the fallen. Strobe lights flicker across the room, amplifying the trip so many of the fallen are on. Heavy metal fills the room—Drowning Pool drives out of the speakers, the rhythmic beat pounds into my flesh, becoming my pulse.

I grin, searching Apache’s face for a reaction. A smile plays across his lips as he notices the lingerie-clad girls on stage who look no more older than 16, though they are clad in bras, panties, and garter belts. I squeeze his hand and release as I head for the bathroom.

The song changes. Disturbed’s “Down with the Sickness” beats out. It is the club’s unofficial anthem—a song about the eternal struggle of the individual against the mother culture of society that is constantly trying to beat the child struggling for independence and individuality into submission. I get into line behind Miss Kitty, the transvestite host of the night.

Though I feel as home in this club as I did pre-gaming at the swank sea food restaurant that night, I am one of the few that does. The club is a cult of misfits and deviants who refused to deny their true identities for convention. I envy that freedom, though I could never totally give myself over to that side. I explore my masochism in private. Rape fantasies. A hidden tattoo with a veiled meaning. A strong desire to be treated like a whore in the bedroom, but a lady everywhere else.

It was my important to me for Apache to see that other side of me. I wondered if it would repulse him, the way it had Trevor, or if he would only think of me that way, the way Jau now did. I hope he’s comfortable here. Club Hell is an overwhelming the first time you step inside, and I had never brought a guy there with me. I wasn’t sure what to expect.

There is no turning back now, that you’ve woken up the daemon, in me…..

Once inside the open stall, with a door that has been missing since I began going to the club my sophomore year of college, I stoop to connect the garter to the tops of my thigh highs. I have trouble with the back—the tight black corset makes it impossible to bend backwards. A petite blond with obviously fake breasts kneels between my thighs, her breath hot against the back of my thigh as she fingers graze the sensitive skin there. Her long blonde ringlets cover her face, and I wonder what I would if she were to kiss up my leg and lick my clit? She’s not down there long enough for me to figure out the answer—and I decide that if something like were to happen, I’d want Apache there to see it anyway.

Apache is standing outside the door. He doesn’t see me as I slide my hands around his waist, laying my head against the thermal knit fabric of his back, breathing in the familiarity of his scent. It smelled like home, though that night was only the fifth time I had been physically near him.

At the bar, he stood behind me possessively. I liked that. I knew from his vantage point he could see how my breasts were only an inch from falling out of the corset. I wondered if he thought about ripping the corset off of me. If he did now, I was planning on doing everything in my power to illicit that reaction.

We had had sex already today. But that was a release—the physical culmination of over a month of text messages, phone calls, and web cam sessions. Tonight is about seduction.

I leaned forward to order drinks from the bartender, not-so-innocently pushing my ass into him. He was getting hard, like he had been at JC Penny’s earlier that afternoon, after I had picked up from the Armory.

Though we had spent so much time talking on web cam, I was shy with him at Penny’s. I wasn’t sure of his expectations and decided to follow his lead. In the men’s department, he kissed me, sweetly. Later, he came up behind me wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me into him. He was hard against back as he kissed my neck. It lasted for a moment, but his breath was ragged when he whispered into my ear, “I need to stop.”

We had joked on web cam, betted even, how long it would be before we had sex. Would we make it back to my house? I had bet that we wouldn’t make it onto the highway. But when Apache decided to visit his mom at work, I forced myself to disinfect my thoughts. I wanted his mom to like me. I was sure she would see in my eyes that I was thinking more about getting her son naked than making small talk. At JC Penny’s I flirted with the idea of suggesting a romp in a dressing room, but thought against it.

We made our way onto the dance floor. He winced as his drink burned his throat and he drank It like an enormous shot of tequila. I enjoyed dancing with him— he had a rhythm that surprised me, and I found myself getting wetter. Straddling his firm thigh, I knew I was leaving wet spots as I ground myself into him.

Grabbing his hand, I led him off the middle of the dance floor towards a more private spots, behind a column. He seemed more comfortable here, and he pressed up against me, his hands wandering across my breasts, down my sides, bare thighs, to trace the tops of my thigh highs. My breath caught in my throat as I hoped he would touch me. I wondered if he could feel how fast my heart beat in anticipation.

Reading my thoughts, Apache slid his hand under the plaid school girl skirt and white petticoat especially chosen for this occasion. He groaned in satisfaction as he realized my panties were soaked, and I gasped as he pushed them aside, thrusting a slim finger inside of me as his thumb found my clit.

“Good girl,” he whispered into my ear, and I felt his cock pulse through the fabric of my skirt.

My knees shook, and the fabric barrier irritated me. Grasping his wrist, I moved away from him, pushing him against the wall as I found his hot mouth, kissed him forcefully, before standing on tip toe to breathe into his ear.

“I’ll be right back.”

The surprise was impossible to misread when I returned from the whore’s room and handed him my panties. I flashed him an impish grin as I pressed my ass into him again. This time his movements were direct, confident—rubbing my clit hard. I circled my arm around his neck, his stubble seducing the sensitive skin on my neck.

I came hard for him then, not afraid to cry out in the noisy club. I turned around to face him, lifting his hands to my lips, sliding my mouth down his wet fingers, my eyes never leaving his as my sweetness played across my tongue. His eyes darkened with desire, and I closed my eyes in pleasure, flicking the fingertip with my tongue the way I wanted to tease the swollen head of his cock. I wondered, for not the first time, if it was me he saw—wonders if he transposes her face for mine. I decide I don’t want to know the answer I turn so I can’t see his face, slide my hand down his firm chest, and slide my fingers down his pants.

I want to fuck him, to fuck his self-satisfied smile away, to make him come and close those dark eyes. I want him so badly I can taste his sweat on my tongue and hear the sounds he is going to make, before I even touch him.

He’s surprised when I grip him, but not unpleasantly. His hips buck once against my hand, and I know he wants to fuck me too. I push him back against the wall, gasping as his fingers slide into me once again. He’s a master with them, because nothing feels this fucking sweet—because boys never do this right. They rub your clit as if it’s a spot that needs removing. But not him. He know exactly what how to graze the flat of a finger softly over my clit and down to the opening. There’s a river down there and it has a course; it tells you what path to take … that valley was made for fingers.

H.I.M.’s “Wicked Games” came on then, and I slide my hand up and down his cock to the rhythm wishing that he could take me right there. Lift my skirt up, tug the zipper down, petticoat to hide it. I almost suggest it to him, but am not sure if it’s too much too soon.

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do--I'd never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you

His knee slips between my thighs and I think about him dragging me across his lap, ceremoniously pulling up the hem of my skirt bringing his big, flat palm down onto my right ass-cheek with a loud smack. The thought alone is enough to make me cum, harder, this time, and I know his fingers are soaked. His other hand grips the wrist now tightly jerking him. He’s close, and he wants to wait until he can cum in me. I know. I wonder if there’s a place where I can straddle him, ride him. I look around. The only available couch is behind the liquid dancers, their glow-sticks leaving trails of light in the darkness. An old flame runs that crew; I’d like to avoid confrontation.

I lead him the back bar instead and sit down on a bar stool, the vinyl cool against my ass. I pull him towards me, kiss him, and think about asking him to leave. The lights go up then, and we stumble out in the night. The cold December air caresses our fevered bodies, and Apache helps me through the snow to the parking lot.

He presses me up against the car, his full mouth devouring mine, kissing my breasts. His breath licks my ear.

“I can’t wait to fuck you. Get us the hell home.”

Yes sir.

Broken Glass

2010-03-16T21:32:00.001-04:00

When I was a child, my Memere had a candy dish that once belonged to her grandmother. Made of beautiful Beleek China, the candy dish adorned the table at parties and holidays. One day when I was a young teenager, Memere dropped the candy dish after she lovingly washed it. This piece of china, with its tiny, hand painted shamrocks, had survived the trip to America aboard a steamer from Ireland. Now, in America, it lay in tiny, shattered pieces across the floor.

Memere didn't try to pick the pieces up and glue them back together, even though the whole held so many memories for her. She knew, as we should know, that once it's broken it's always going to be broken, and it's better to accept that than to hurt yourself trying to piece it back together.

It's the same with relationships. Why do people insist on holding onto relationships that are not just cracked, but broken. Is it out of nostaliga or a longing for the once perfect past? Is it a fear of being alone? Is it out of guilt that we somehow had a hand in their undoing?

I'm dealing with this with Apache now. He is at a very confused place in his life. DogFace has him fully convinced, it seems that he is to blame for her infidelity, because he left her alone to go to boot camp. She also has convinced him that Jay, who she is living with as his girlfriend, deserves just as much blame. So Apache lives in this state of pereptual guilt, both fully believing that he is to blame, and also recognizing how incredibly illogical this guilt is, which makes him feel even worse about himself because he can't seem to rip himself away. He talks about taking revenge on Jay when he comes home-- about making him pay for all the pain he has caused. Yet, he can't doesn't want to make DogFace atone for her sins, by cutting her off and divorcing her. Yes, you read that right, Apache has not yet filed for divorce, and refuses to even think about such a thing while he's on deployment because he feels he has too much to deal with in country. He knows he has to make a decision, and since meeting me, his decision is complicated. When we first met, he was saying he was going back to her no matter what. Now, at least, he's doubting if he can trust her again (ugh, no!) and if he should be with me. His decision is no longer clear.

And DogFace is a master manipulator. Here she is, living with Jay, and parading around at his girlfriend. The only people that do not know about her new relationship are her family, who live in Utah. Her Facebook (because of her Mom) still says she's married. There are NO pictures of her and Apache on there, though, and there are some of her and Jay. Yet, she tells C that she is not sure what she wants. That she still loves him. That she still thinks about growing old with him. Yet, she's telling Jay the SAME THING.

And he's with me. He calls me his girl to his buddies and they know details about me. I've met his parents, sister, and extended family. He texts me non stop when he can. He talks about a future with me, about what it would be like to do all these things together both when he comes home on leave and when he comes home for good.

I know you all think I'm pretty stupid for sticking around in this situation. And I'm not going to argue with you. The thing is though, other than this situation, it feels pretty damn perfect. I love him, especially for this situation because I wish that someone (Trevor) would have fought that hard for me a year ago, and he loves me too. He's not the type of person to say something he does not mean, so I am not doubting him on his feelings there. I love his family, who are amazingly normal and wonderful to have in my life. I love how he supports me. I love how much fun we have together. I love how I am a stronger person because of him. If you asked me a year ago, if I could have handled dating someone who is not only on the other side of the world, but is in the line of fire, I would have laughed in your face. Solitude is never something that I am good at. For Apache, though, I'm willing to wait however long it takes to be with him.

Do I walk away? Right now, I'm saying no. All that shows him is what he already thinks. That being with him is too difficult. But I am not selfish, and I am a figher till the last bell sounds my victory or defeat. Maybe this will shatter in my hands, I'll end up cut-- but at least I'll have the memories.

I left Ken for GI Joe

2010-03-14T17:31:00.000-04:00

"Shit, gotta go, getting spun up, I love you. I'll email you later, baby," Apache typed.

"I love you too. Be Safe." I typed back, blowing him a kiss as he shut of the web cam.

"Don't worry. I'll be fine. later baby."

Saturday began in a rather idyllic fashion. I woke up to some texts from Apache, who was online. We FINALLY got our web cam to work and got to chat for a few hours like that. Being able to see his face makes me feel so much better, and it is hysterical to listen to the guys goof off in the background. On the plus side, it's mad cute to hear Apache told the guys about something funny "his girl said". It makes me feel really secure to know that the boys know about me-- they even know details, like I'm a teacher and I have a horse. Apache's closest buddy, MB, even calls me "the future wifey." LMAO.

Apache was on QRF duty-- QRF stands for Quick Reactive Force. In essence, he and his crew are back up in case a mission encounters problems.

He's gotten "spun up"-- sent out on missions-- before and returned home without making any contact with the natives. So, I didn't think much of it and got dressed, took care of Magic, and went shopping at Target for the rest of the things to include in his birthday box.

A few hours later, I got an email from him, "We're back. Contact Made" and my blood ran cold.

I mean, I knew that it would happen. He's not on a vacation in Afghanistan. He's cautioned me against asking too many questions that I dont really wanna know the answers to.

Before dating Apache, I was pacifist. Not for the war, but not against the soldiers that are fighting it since I know so many of them who joined to make a better lives for themselves. And dating Apache has cemented a very strong belief in me. I don't care what he has to do as long as he comes home safe.... I hold NOTHING he does over there against him.

The idea that he's in harms way scares me more than the idea of him going back to DogFace. I could pretend that he was on vacation as long as his QRFs came and went without incident. Now,I feel like there's a perpetual lump in my throat and I can't quite catch my breath. Since he sleeps during what is my afternoon, I spend that time worrying about him. Thank God for the miracle of Internet and cell phones, cause if I had to wait weeks between letters, I would be a hot mess.

I wonder if Apache knew it would be like this and that's why he introduced me to his family. Being able to email his sister, aunt, mom, and dad really help. His sister even is a devout reader of this blog (*waves*) and you can thank her for the many updates lately cause she is constantly reminding me to update!

Seriously considering starting Wellbutrin again since I've always had a problem with anxiety. I weaned myself off of it this winter since I'm a bit of a purist about what goes in my body. The only reason I take birth control is because, according to my doctor, my cervix is too tight for it to be properly inserted. Trust me, I've tried three times after the pregnancy.

My heart is deployed, and I want it back...

Commit to Be Fit

2010-03-13T21:43:00.000-05:00

This is the end of week 2 on program and on exercise. This week I treated myself to an I Pod touch, which helps the time fly by. Since my ankle was feeling much better, I upped my exercise from 30 mins of walking to 30 mins of elliptical. Yeah, the elliptical kicks my ASS and I'm covered in sweat by the end of it all, but I know its so worth it.

So, I totally went to weigh in today and except at least a lb. I was surprised to find out that I lost 0.2. That's right 2/10 of a lb.

Had I not done the program, I would have been sincerely upset. And it still does bother me. However, I know my body well enough to know that it takes at least two weeks of activity before I see results. I know that what I am doing is the best for me and my body. Even though I have not seen the results yet, I feel much better. I've been sleeping more fitfully and i have more energy these days.

So this week, I commit to tracking more closely and ramping up my activity level on the elliptical. Starting on Monday, I'll be doing 45 mins. To reward myself, I purchased a Barbie pink sports bra from Target. Yay!

What do you do to motivate yourself?

The Love Doll

2010-03-13T21:18:00.001-05:00

Meet "Aurora," she is a "love doll" replica of a famous celebrity that I share a name, hair color, and cup size with. As we speak, she is on her way to Afghanistan fully blown up, complete with party hat to wish Apache a very merry birthday.

A few weeks ago, I was attempting to quiz Apache what he would like for his birthday. He, very sweetly, said, "just you..." Now, y'all know I love adventure, and I would gladly mail myself if I felt I could get away with it. But I just do not wanna make Apache's buddies jealous.

So I bought "Aurora", blew her up, added some candy, snack foods, and some toiletries that he needs, and shipped her off. I CAN'T WAIT to see what he thinks about that, and I'm hoping he laughs!

**

On another note, those of you sending packages overseas might benefit from the USPS Shipping Assistant --
one of the things I HATE is filling out custom forms, especially since it takes FOREVER to do and i always send a variety of items that exceeds the number of lines on the form. You just load the program, and type in what you're sending, press print and done! <3 it!!!

TMI Thursday: Misplacing the V-Card

2010-03-11T09:52:00.000-05:00

I was 19. Chase & I had been dating about 2 months. He was older (23) and experienced. I had just gotten my first kiss on Valentine's Day when I was 18, and my first boyfriend, Patrick, and I didn't do much more than makeout and dry hump over clothes.

Dates with Chase were like a practical application of sex education. We quickly went through lessons 1, 2, 3, and then Chase was ready to slide into home (yes, I know that's a mixed metaphor--but go with me here).

I stalled for quite sometime, mostly because I was positively terrified. At the time, I thought Chase was freakishly huge. After our experience last September, I'm not sure if I was just reallllly shy or something else. Camile insists that penises can grow--do they shrink too with age?

Finally, one night we're getting into it and I get into the usual routine of fondling and oral sex. It was about all I was comfortable with. Not to mention, he still lived with his mother. His bedroom was next to the bathroom-- and I'm not exactly a quiet person. She liked me, though I'm not sure she would if she knew how often I sneaked into the house after everyone else had gone to sleep.

Chase is more insistent tonight.

"I want to make love to you," he purrs in my ear, the dim lighting reflecting into tiger stripes across his cinnamon colored back.

"I don't know if I'm ready for that, Chase," I insist. He runs his tongue down my neck and across my shoulder, turning my deep breaths into ragged gasps. It isn't long before I'm begging for release, and he is only going to give it to me in one way. I can't take it anymore.

"Fuck me," I command. A condom materializes out of thin air and he slides it on, ready to slide into me. I tense, cause now I'm anxious as hell as he slides in. It hurts. I ask him to stop. He kisses me, trying to get me to relax, but I can't. I'm not ready, and I know it, as much as I want to please him.

"It'll just be like pulling off a band aid. It'll be okay," he purrs again. "You love me don't you?"

"I can't do this!" I roll away from him and start crying. He sighs angrily, pulls the condom off, and lays down as far away from me as he can on the single bed. I know he's upset.

After a few minutes later, I curl into him.

"I'm sorry...." I plead in my best "I'm-cute-please-don't be-mad-at-me" voice. He says nothing, and turns on the TV. I stare at the movie--Resident Evil--for a few minutes. I'm being punished--I understand that through my naiveté. I do the only thing I know how to do—I grovel.

Burrowing my head under the covers, I lick down to him, taking him in my mouth, wincing momentarily at residual latex taste. He stops me.

“I don’t want you to give me head. I want to fuck you.”

I answer by giving him a condom.

Again, he tries to slide into me. I try to relax, but as he stretches me, I involuntarily tighten up. The impatient look on his face turns my stomach. This was not the patient, loving experience I wanted to have. And so many questions run through my mind: Could I get pregnant? Am I ready to give up the Virgin label? Will he call me tomorrow? Could I go to Hell for this?

He’s the one to turn away, sitting on the edge of the bed. I watch as he takes care of himself. I try to help, but he shoves me away, so hard I tumble over onto the floor. I kneel watching his cum rain down onto the carpet, where it pools in angry drops beside the two unused condoms.

I still stay there that night, laying next to him in the tiny bed. He’s hanging off on the edge of the bed, but when I try to pull him closer to me, he pushes my arms away.

It’s no surprise that Chase broke up with me a week later. Its 9 more months until I lose my virginity, to a Naval petty officer stationed at the sub base. 15 minutes later, I found out he was engaged.

For more Indecent Exposures, check out the other entries at TMI Thursday.

Grave Robbers

2010-03-10T12:54:00.000-05:00

Graveyards fascinate me.

No, it's not a morbid, "I sleep in a coffin" type of fascination. If you think about it, unless we are published authors or artists, our gravestone is our lasting statement to the world as to who we were. Even pop culture has figured this out, remember the "What do you want on your tombstone" commercials?

I got interested in grave stones when my Nana would take me and my sister to visit the graves of her parents. Not interested in paying respects to the dead I never met, my Papu and I would walk around the grave yard and he would tell me the legends and lore behind the gravestones. There is the mysteriously ball on top of the Houghton family plot-- the solid granite ball weighs more than 4000 lbs and has somehow rotated more than two feet on its base. There's the grave of a toymaker whose stone says, "Goin' but know not where".

Some of the stones are sad: next to my brother's grave is the grave of another little boy with his picture inlaid in the stone-- the little one died in a fire. A little ways down the field there is a headstone for a teenage girl who died in a car crash when she swerved to avoid a chicken that had flown into the road. A talented softball player, her gravestone has a ball and bat on it.

Graves, no matter the inscription, demand the respect for the dead, because the dead cannot defend themselves. So that's why I find grave robbing and vandalism absolutely disgusting.

On the grave of Sara Larned Osgood in Yantic, CT sits a bronze statue of a kneeling woman in flowing robes. The piece weighs 450 lbs with an estimated value of $35,000, and has been a part of the cemetary for $120 years.

I should say that it sat there. The statue disappeared a few weeks ago from the Yantic Cemetary. It turned up days ago at a scrap yard, cut into pieces. The alleged thief said it was pieces from a Statue of Liberty (replica) that tipped over, and netted about $200. Suspicious, the owners of Willimantic Waste Paper called the cops.

Sean P. McNee, 43, of 182 S. Park St. in Willimantic has been charged with first-degree larceny, first-degree criminal mischief and desecration of a grave site.

It completely sickens me. I understand times are tough, but this is a public monument. Publically owned does not mean that one citizen can lay claim to a piece and use it for their own personal gain. I hope that he and his cohorts, when they are found, be prosecuted to the highest extent of the law.

Speaking of gravesites, watching Ducky weeping at his mother's grave site almost broke my heart, though it made me feel good to know he's reinventing his life according to his own rules, not his mothers! Seeing Gibbs lying on the exam table freaked me out, however, because I hope it's not foreshadowing anything to come!

Christian Kane

2010-03-09T14:26:00.003-05:00

It was late January 2009 and the fog was ghosting off the lake, drifting across the road. I was in my car following the phantom of the Jay's taillights. Easily creeped out, imagining figures coming out of the dark woods, I turned on the radio to muffle the eerie sound of silence. The country station was playing the opening notes of a song I had never heard before.

Instantly in love with the song, because it described my relationship with Jay so well, I jotted down a few of the lyrics on the back of an envelope. A Google search turned up no hits. So, I emailed the DJ of tha radio station. He emailed me back, sheepishly admitting that the had played a demo tape. The song was called "Let Me Go" by Christian Kane, who some of you might know from the show Leverage. The song was only available on his MySpace page.

The electronic albumn just got released today. I highly recommend him to you all. He has a beautiful, rough voice-- he reminds me of Chris Daughtry or Bo Bice, except in country form.

I downloaded it and I'm sharing it all with you. I hope you enjoy!

5 - Let Me Go (EP Version).mp3

An open letter

2010-03-07T07:37:00.001-05:00

Dear Girl-I-thought-was-my-friend,

I went to your Celebrating Home party not because I have a home of my own, yet, to decorate, but because you asked me to go and bring my mom to cheer your mom up.

I bought $35 worth of stuff and booked a catalog party to help you get that metal booze tub that you want so much.

You know about Apache, and the complicated situation therein, though you've never met him.

Before the party started and we were drinking Seamonsters, made with the Malibu I brought to the party, I was socializing with you friends--only one of whom I met before. One of your friends talked about how she was a masseuse, and I wondered aloud if she would do gift certificates. Maybe I could buy Apache a gift certificate for his birthday to redeem when he comes home on leave.

One girl, who I met before, says, "You guys are engaged right?" And before I have a chance to respond, you blurt out:

"No, because he's married! HAHAHAHA!"

Okay, way to make me look like an ass, a homewrecker, and a stupid slut in front of people I don't know. I'm not sure where you go the idea that that piece of information, while technically true, was a juicy tidbit you could tell everyone I just met, including a girl who is engaged to the biggest gossip this side of the Mississippi. You really think everyone at the firehouse is not going to find out about this?

You know full well that I had nothing to do with the end of their marriage. But that's not how you made it sound. You know full well that I'm not a mistress, and it's no sordid secret that we are together. His family knows and likes me. His wife (DogFace) is living with another man and has been for months now. She was the one who stepped out on that relationship with her infidelity, not him.

If you have a problem with him being married then you should have talked to me about it, like an adult. Not lampoon me in front of people I don't even know.

Close encounters of the ex kind

2010-03-04T21:06:00.002-05:00

After my "grueling" workout at the gym with Minnie (I walked for 45 minutes. I wish I could run), I stood at the desk waiting for tanning. All of a sudden, Chase walks in.

I haven't seen Chase since our last encounter in September. I had purposely joined this new gym because it was not the one he was going to last time we talked. He's one of those toxic people I do my best to avoid. And yesterday, I had Chase-dar. Walking on the treadmill, I got the premonition that Chase could walk in the gym at any minute. And here he was, 24 hours later.

Of course, sweaty, in spandex yoga pants, no makeup, and at least 15 lbs heavier than the last time he saw me, was not the ideal way to run into your first boyfriend especially when you realize that the gym has transformed him from scrawny ghetto boy to muscular gym rat. I may not want to date or sleep with him, but a girl has some pride.

He said hi as he walked in. My face must have turned white because walking into the tanning booths, Minnie whispered, "God damn, who the fuck was that?"

"Chase, my ex. He's an asshole, but we dated on and off for a couple years."

She turned to look appreciatively at his back as he flirted with the attendant at the counter.

"With a body like that, Aurora, he could be an asshole all he wants..."

Having Chase around the gym makes me very nervous for some reason. He now inspires the same chills up my spine that seeing a coiled rattlesnake in the grass gives me. I don't trust him in any way, shape, or form.

The story is anticlimatic. He didn't say or do anything improper--just a quick hi and funny to see you here. He actually even deleted me off facebook He just gives me the creeps. He's just one of those people I just as soon as forget, and I can't seem to avoid him.

Can anyone relate?

TMI Thursday: How I Earned the Respect of Men at a Strip Club

2010-03-04T09:52:00.000-05:00

Inspired by Chelsea's inaugural TMI Thursday post at Chelsea Talks Smack, I am dedicating this week's TMI Thursday post to strippers.

It's not secret that I'm a rather open-minded person. Naked women bother me not in the slightest. Hell, Mafia Princess and I visited the local strip club whenever we were dead broke last summer because there were drunken men who would buy us drinks. It was almost too easy.

When Apache was home on his Christmas break, he had planned to go with "the boys" he works with to the local strip club. No big deal. I planned on hanging with some friends. Well, at the last minute he decided for me to go, and I went.

I was totally terrified. Here, I was going with Apache to a) a strip club to meet b) men that I had known previously as Jay's girlfriend and c) Jay told me that everyone he worked with hated me, and d) there was a possibility DogFace would show up. Lovely.

I get there, and it turns out only one of them, Player, remembers me. And since this particular guy has nicknamed Jay, "cheat", things are okay.

So, I sit down and quickly realize I am a girl out on boys night. I get introduced and then get ignored while men have their man time. Fine with me, I busy myself with catching up on my blogs on my cell (strip club ettiquette be damned).

The cocktail waitress comes over to ask us what we want to drink. She's a cute blond with glasses and her hair up in a librarian bun. She gets the boys drinks then looks at me:

"What can I get for you, Miss {insert my last name here}?"

The boys notice this exchange. I take a closer look at the girl. She is one of my former students-- apparently all grown up and working hard for the money. We catch up for a bit, then she goes to fetch our drinks.

Apache looks at me.

"Let me get this straight. You know a stripper?"

"Yea, she was one of my students."

"You taught a stripper?" I nod.

"Dude, your girl's killin' me." Player moans. The other guys voice their approval at this connection.

It continues through the night when I get a lap dance bought for me. I was NOT drunk enough to even begin to remotely enjoy that. It was kinda awkward actually, especially since Apache was watching and I had NO clue how to act. I've never had a lap dance before. Advice?

Adding to the bizarreness of the night, a few strippers befriend me. Seriously, I was the ONLY girl in the bar other than the strippers, and the girls all came over to hang out when they weren't on the floor. The boys collectively decide that taking a woman to the strip club is definitely good for business.

As for me, I decided that tagging along for boys night isn't such a good idea. I'd much rather do the strip club thing one on one with the boyfriend since it can be a sexy date. Going with you boyfriend and his buddies, not so much.

So, I try to drink away the awkwardness-- after three relatively weak diet coke and Bacardis, i decide that I need something stronger. Cue a Grateful Dead, which I figured would be made weak like the Bacardis. I drink the drink, and still don't feel a thing. An hour later, Apache and I decide to leave. We had come in separate cars, and I was going to drive to his house. I get on the highway and realize a few miles later that I am NOT okay to drive. Not at ALL okay. Luckily, Dawson lives only a few minutes down the road. I call Apache to let him know the change of plans, and dump my car off at Dawson's, before proceeding to pass out in Apache's car.

Next time he wants me to join him on boys night, I might just end up staying home.

I wonder if he knows what he's doing now

2010-03-02T22:17:00.001-05:00

"I wish I was a little girl again, because scraped knees are easier to heal than a broken heart."

Skinned knees heal rather quickly and usually do not leave a scar behind. Broken bones, like broken hearts, heal much more slowly. And as everyone who has broken a bone knows, there are sometimes, in some weather, that the break begins to ache, no matter how aged the injury.

Did a little spring cleaning today of my computer hard drive-- since I have a back up program on my computer, I wanted to make sure that my files were organized. I spent the last hours organizing my photos, including 2006, 2007, 2008, and early 2009.

Organizing those hurt. Having to sort through the photos of Trevor and I-- from the early dates, to pictures of our first apartment, first holidays, and him proposing-- to the middle years-- anniversary camping trips, parties, dances-- and the last hurrah we had last winter., hurt. A lot.

I'm healing from the break up. I've had my rebound (Doc) and found someone pretty special (Apache). I don't think of Trevor every single day-- he remains mostly blocked from my mind. But seeing his face and mine, so happy, makes me wonder what's he's doing now.

I know from Megan that he's still with Amber, and he loves Amber and he's happy. I know he hates me or so he says. And I know that that means he hasn't healed. The opposite of love is not hate, as one may think. The opposite of love is indifference.

I'm not saying I wanna be with him. I know that things would have to change drastically for that to ever work. I'm not sure a person can change that drastically. It'd mean he'd have to keep a job, and, from what I understand, sober up. That's not going to happen soon, if ever.

I just miss him. It feels weird sometimes that I have no contact with someone I loved so much such a short time ago. He's made no attempt to contact me. I suppose thats for the best. I do care still. I do wanna know if he's okay. I wish I could influence him to clean up his life because he is much better than a needle or a short white line. Saving people's lives used to be important to him. Why is he trying so hard to ruin his own?

Anyone ever feel nostalgic and wistful about your first love or the one that got away?

Endorphins

2010-03-02T14:09:00.000-05:00

"Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make people happy. Happy people just don't kill their husbands."

- Legally Blonde

Minnie & I joined a gym yesterday, the Fitness Factory. With our newly minted grad school student ids, it's only $37 a month including tanning! The start up fees were waived and we get a lovely 20% discount. That works out great for me because it's pretty much one stop shopping. It's 5 mins down the road from the barn, there's a nail salon right next door, and my tanning is there so I have NO excuse to not at least hop up on the treadmill. Plus, it saves on gas and travel time.

I'm taking it easy with my ankle. I can really only handle walking on the treadmill for now. Anything high-impact is not a good thing while the tendons heal. The most important thing is that I'm laying the ground work for a habit to develop.

Stage 5 Clinger

2010-03-01T16:09:00.001-05:00

"I got to get outta here, pronto. I got a stage five clinger. Stage five, virgin, clinger."

- Wedding Crashers

So I have this friend. a male friend. We're not going to mention any names or anything but you've heard about said male friend before.

Male friend, once a habitual monogamist, has discovered the wonderful world of casual dating since he believes that "playing with" women is much easier than falling for them since that has led to multiple heart breaks from women who use him and break his heart.

Male friend, however, lacks the skills and tact of a player. He's starting to become a little bit of a creep. Since I have a very high comfort level with him, I haven't noticed it, but my single, female friends who I've been spending time with these days have.

Case #1- MF and I were suppossed to go to a friend's birthday party then out to a club later on to meet up with my female friends, none of which MF had met before. He had briefly chatted with one of them, who he poached off my friend's list, via facebook that week earlier. I got quite sick, and decided not to go out. MF met up with my friends anyway. He went onto FB, got this girl's cell #, posted in his FB status that he was meeting his "date" (now- he's never met this chick before), and as the story was relayed to me yesterday, he proceeded to give men the death stare if they got anywhere near her. Girl was none too amused, and as she told me, he was "acting like a stage 5 clinger."

I can believe that since, he has been systematically attempting to hook up with not only my female friends, but my exs' sisters.

Case #2- he comes out to the bar to meet up with Country. Eager to show off to Country, he takes his brandy new Chevy Silverado out to go do donuts and off road through a frozen hay field. He thinks he is impressing the ladies, but Country just thought he was stupid, especially since he did damage to his truck.

I mean, both girls think he's really sweet, but that he's trying too hard to be someone he's not. And that's not attractive.

Care Package

2010-03-01T14:55:00.000-05:00

With a finally confirmed address in hand, I sent Apache's care package out last week. It weight 28 lbs-- I thought it was going to be close to $60 to send.

SOMEHOW it was only $19.

I try to send random things in his care packages to make him laugh since he is having a really hard time adjusting to his deployment. I am working on his second care package, which will be his birthday one. In the first one, I sent him some stick on moustaches (their CO made them grow moustaches, which he hated) and a "Bullshit" button (kinda like the Staples Easy Button) plus a lot of plastic army men.

He keeps asking me to send myself in a box, so in his 2nd care package I am sending a Pamela Anderson blow up doll. I'm going to blow it up before I send it, so the doll will pop up when he opens it. Dawson finds this hysterical--I'm hoping Apache does too (I'm half afraid I'm going to give him a heart attack). Plus some birthday hats, candles, etc. He loves Key Lime Pie, so I'm going to try to find something Key Lime flavored to send. I also am going to attempt to send a bottle of Patron in the Lipton Iced Tea Bottles since he is thirsting for a drink!

I also put little post it notes on things when I send it, explaining why I include some things. For example, I included a box of dryer sheets since I know that they can help to make things smell nice, can be used to wipe dust off of electronic LCD screens, and if you hang them up they keep away the bugs-- trust me. I own a horse and I braid them into his mane and tail in the summer time to keep away the horse flies. So I put a little post it note on it.

I also bought him a blanket from the grad school I attend-- one of those really warm ones that are made out of sweatshirt material. I slept in it for a week and then sprayed it with perfume

TMI Thursday (complete with pictures)

2010-02-25T14:17:00.000-05:00

Country started it.

I just want to make that clear.

It’s not my fault that her recent singledom has convinced men to buy her coffee, drinks, and dinner. I might be taken, but Apache is out of the country and unable to spoil me. So sue me that I am only too happy to follow Country’s lead. We convinced her electrician stalker to buy us lunch, and Dawson only too happily bankrolled both dinner and drinks last week at Golden Greek & the Golden Eagle.

Saturday, Country & I decided we should convince Dawson to again buy us dinner. We dressed up and met him at Ruby Tuesdays not that far from his house. He drives a big Chevy Silverado—we may as well save him some gas $.

We ate dinner and drank. I was two Sangrias in by the time we decided we should find another bar. Brookside’s, near Foxwoods Casino, with its mechanical bull was calling our name. YeeHaw!

Country laid it on thick, flashing her new knee high boots, and rubbing them up Dawson’s leg. Resistance was futile.

We left the restaurant and started to walk out to the car. Country was flirtatiously trying to get Dawson to let her drive his truck. Suddenly, a crazy pain shot through my leg and I just dropped.

I had twisted my ankle the week before—the hospital had xrayed it, saw nothing broken, and just sent me home.

Dawson carried me to my car, with Country driving his truck and drove me to the hospital. I have never been in so much pain all my life. I blacked out a couple of times, and spent the rest of the time screaming at Dawson to “shut the fuck up” because he was giving my mom (on the phone) a play-by-play of what he thought was wrong with my ankle.

Triage sent me to Xray, and my mom wheeled me to xray. The woman, Suzanne, took one look at me and told me to go back to Triage:

“Why? Triage said they sent down an x-ray order?”

“You need a pregnancy test.” I laughed, absolutely dumbfounded.

“There’s not a cold chance in hell I’m pregnant. My boyfriend is…”

“How old are you?”

“24, but there really is no…”

“ I don’t care. You still need a pregnancy test. Go.”

Mom wheeled me back, and by that point I was absolutely livid. Not only was there no way in hell I’m pregnant – trust me I WISH I had reason to doubt because then it meant I actually would have gotten some in the last two months—but I had a possible broken ankle. How the HELL was I going to hover long enough to pee on a stick?

To top it all off, I couldn’t get back in the ER because the doors were locked. Country and Dawson were doubled over in laughter, and finally the door unlocked. Mom totally opened the door INTO my ankle. Fucking lovely.

So I sat in the waiting room while Triage argued with Xray. I still had to take the damn pregnancy test, and was half tempted to have Dawson help me. He was such a good sport driving me to the ER, that I decided against it.

They sent us into a room and we were pretty loud and obnoxious. Country coerced Dawson into giving her a back massage (on the bed while I sat pitifully in a wheel chair.)

To make a long story short, I have a Stage III sprained ankle which means nothing other than I'm in a nifty splint and I get to have regular visits my hunky orthopedic surgeon who looks alot like an older version of Apache. As an added bonus, he's the former team surgeon to the New York Mets, so we get to talk baseball.

My extremely swollen ankle. Forgive the unpedicured toes. They had to wipe off my nail polish to check my ciruclation

Country. In my wheelchair. with the infamous boots. I want a pair.

2010-02-25T10:58:00.000-05:00

So I've decided to take a different tact with this blog. It started off as being a ranting blog about how shitty it is is to be single again after so long. At this point in my life, relationships are not my focus. I am totally crazy about Apache and there may be an entry on him and I from time, but he is in the 'Ghan. Other than a play by play of our back and forth email conversations, there isn't much I can say.

In some ways, I'm glad that he is in the 'Ghan because I'm not sure at this point in my life I can hold a functional adult relationship with someone who is physically here and wants my time. I know myself well enough to know that my relationship wouldn't suffer, it would be everything else, namely my health and grad school.

So I'm trying to make a life style change because I need to. My weight is creeping back on and that scares me. As of yesterday I weigh 215.4 lbs and I am supposed to be about 140. The time to make a change is NOW, and I need to stop letting everything else get in the way.

So these are my goals of the week. I have three and I think they are pretty doable:

* Alcohol-- let's see if I can make it through the night with only one diet coke and vodka rather than 3 or 4. I go to bars, usually, where I know the bartender. There's no reason why i can't ask her to put it in a rocks glass rather than a soda glass so Country, Dawson, and Cleavage (3 of my friends) have no clue I'm not drinking.

* Tracking- I haven't been tracking and I have a ton of half-started tracking notebooks that I misplace. I have a free subscription to WW Etools-- let's see if I can go a whole week with e-tracking.

* Activity-- I have a level III sprained ankle (torn ligaments) that has kept me off my feet since Feb 13. However, I can do other activities. I'm going to go to a local gym that has a pool and a circuit room. I can do any activities that do not involve ankle or tons of weigh bearing in the circuit room and swimming might be good for me.

Trust me, the blog will still retain the same flavor, just of a different variety.

Comments?

Surviving Singles Awareness Day

2010-02-12T13:17:00.000-05:00

There is no other yearly holiday that I can think of that draws more attention to the fact that you are single than Valentine's Day. From the fact that all those "coupled up" become unreachable via text, fields of flowers delivered to seemingly everyone in your workplace, and the sudden appearance of red and pink heart cut outs, Valentine's Day is a day that is hard to miss.

While I'm not single this Valentine's Day, I will be alone since Apache is currently on his way to the 'Ghan and has not been able to contact me since leaving Wednesday night. Instead of wallowing in self-pity and selfishly wondering if he thought about sending me flowers on Valentine's Day, I'm going to go out with a friend, Country, who has recently broken things off with her long-term boyfriend. We decided on a day of pampering-- complete with tanning, manicures, though getting my hair "did" is reserved for Wednesday when I will be going back to blond-- since today was payday and I've been neglecting my pampering in the interest of saving money!

Since Monday is the official beginning to my week-long school vacation, I think we're going to go out line dancing to complete the night. I know that she was feeling kinda crummy since her ex suddenly has a Valentine's Day date (which he publicly announced via Facebook) so she might appreciate the company. In the week since the break up, she also has been bombared with offers, which flatters her, but I know she's not ready for a date. Spending quality time with friends seems like the perfect time!

So, all you single ladies (and gents) out there, what are you doing to fight back against Singles Appreciation Day?

Cam Studio

2010-02-11T20:39:00.000-05:00

When possible, Apache and I talk via web cam. Both Yahoo Messenger and AOL Instant Messenger offer convenient platforms to chat. We have Skype too, but Apache prefers Yahoo for some reason.

Apache is currently on his way to Afghanistan after spending almost a week in Kyrgyzstan. I definitely got spoiled because we talked on video cam for almost 4 days straight. Since he will be going to a base that the US has only occupied for 2 months, he's not sure if there is going to be Internet or cell phone service (he has a Verizon WorldPhone that has worked thus far). I wanted to figure out a way to record our chats so I can play them when I miss him.

I discovered CamStudio, a free progam that is able to record all screen and audio activity on your computer and create industry-standard AVI video files:

Combined with Windows Movie Maker, I got to create the following video:

Not Saying Goodbye

2010-02-03T12:53:00.000-05:00

Dear Apache,

It's been a month since you've been gone. A month since I fiercely kissed you goodbye outside the armory and tried to not let you see me cry because I didn't want to make you feel guilty. I was afraid of you finding out exactly how much you mean to me--afraid of putting my heart out there like that in case you would turn it down.

And now I'm afraid of you boarding that plane today and not knowing exactly how much you mean to me. I've alluded to it in multiple conversations, but I've never come right out and said it.

I love you, Apache

I'm not asking for you to say it back, yet or ever. I'm not asking for anything by saying it. I'm simply saying it because that is how I feel and I want you to know that wherever you go, whatever you do, I'm waiting for you at home, like I said I was going to.

I'm not the type of person that makes promises to make them. If I think I won't be able to handle something I say so. But I can handle this because in April I'll get to pick you up at the airport and in November I'll get to be there when you come home. There are going to be alot of trials along the way, I know, but if we can get through this, we can get through anything.

My cell phone is sitting next to me, and I know that somewhere in Louisiana you are packing your things, doing final checks to leave, and getting on the bus to go. I know you'll call me when you are on your way to the bus, and for the first time in our relationship, I don't want you to call me. I don't want that call to come that you are on your way to a place where you're not just a phone call or a drive away, where you are in danger, where you might not come home from. 'Cause that means that this thing we've been preparing ourselves for for the last three months is something tangible and real.

I'm not going to think like that, though you've brought that possibility up in that past few conversations we've had. I refuse to say good bye, because those words have a finality to them. Instead, I'm going to say I'll be seeing you.

I still imagine your touch

It's beautiful missing something that much

But sometimes love needs a fighting chance

So I'll wait my turn until it's our turn to dance

- "Come Home Soon"- SheDaisy

Caught in red tape

2010-01-29T14:02:00.000-05:00

Had my board hearing on Wednesday, and I've finally cooled down to the point where I feel I can rationally comment about on it.

Verdict: 2 of the 5 1/2 days I took will be counted as personal days. The other 3 1/2 are considered unpaid days. I have to give a professional development presentation. That applies for this year. Next year, I have to take all 5 days unpaid, but I won't be considered "insubordinate" if I attend school.

Seriously, I am so frustrated by this verdict. I'm not taking time off as "mental health days" or to vacation in Tahiti the way some of my coworkers do.I am working on furthering my education in order to directly benefit the work I do here as a teacher.

My paycheck, for two full weeks, was $161, since they have yet to reimburse me for those 2 days I was awarded. So now I have to make do with $161 even though I have so many bills to pay including scraping up the money somewhere to pay board when Magic moves to his new barn on Sunday.

Thank God I moved in with my parents, and hopefully I can start to bounce back from this financially in the next few months. I'm really trying to pay my credit cards off because my balance started to skyrocket after Trevor lost his job for the tenth time. Just feel like I can't catch up or catch a break even though I'm not longer paying rent or utilities.

My Writing

2010-01-28T22:34:00.001-05:00

Working title is "The Hardest Thing".

I'd appreciate suggestions for titles.

The highlighted portions I am debatign whether or not they need to be included in the MSS.

Check it out here

A thought

2010-01-27T14:57:00.000-05:00

To my Lovelies:

Yes, I'm talking to you, the Readers that exist to me as wonderful, advice giving poetic bloggers. After I posted Above the Knee, several of you requested that I begin posting more of my fiction and nonfiction. I was wondering if anyone would be interested if I began posting my work to Google Docs, and linking to it in this blog. I'm sincerely interested in honest, constructive feedback from you all, since readers like you are the intended audience for the book I am working on, tentatively titled Catholic Guilt.

Thoughts?

A Book I Never Thought I'd see banned

2010-01-27T14:49:00.001-05:00

**Just read this entry at The Write Space, an educational blog affiliated with Connecticut Writing Project-- a subdivision of the National Writing Project, Since many of my readers are in the educational field, I thought they would appreciate this story**

**I have my meeting with the Board concerning the personal days this afternoon @ 6:20. Wish me luck!**

Dictionaries and Vending Machines

Down the hall from my office are soda and snack vending machines, and both are notorious for stealing money. The Coke machine sometimes just takes your $1.25 and gives you nothing in return. The snack machine typically has food get stuck somewhere in its descent into the bin. The lucky undergrad who finds a stuck bag of Fritos can sometimes win two bags for the price of one by purchasing one of the same item and hoping it falls in such a way as to knock down the stuck bag. Yesterday I walked out of my office when I heard the snack machine being assaulted. I saw four undergraduate girls attacking the machine. One rather long-limbed girl looked as if she were trying to scale the side of the machine. She was standing at its side, feet planted wide, knees almost embracing the ends, hands clasping both upper corners. I realized she was trying to get enough leverage to tip the machine forward—while her three friends stood in front of the machine, alternately banging, punching, and pounding on the glass. If the long-limbed girl ever got sufficient leverage to tip the machine, she would surely bring it down on top of her more conventionally-limbed girlfriends.

I walked over to the assailants, stood aside in case the climber succeeded in her attempts to tilt the machine, and asked them (rhetorically) if the machine had stolen their money. All three girls in the pathway of doom replied at once. Apparently, not only had the first bag of Doritos they had attempted to purchase gotten stuck, but the second and third bags they had attempted to purchase in the hopes of knocking down the previous bags had also gotten stuck. There was now a stack of Doritos bags right about at the girls’ eye level just taunting them by its refusal to fall. The long-limbed girl was still at it, and so I asked if they had ever heard of the Darwin Awards, which are awarded each year to “those who improve our gene pool by removing themselves from it.” Basically, the award is given to people who unintentionally kill themselves in the most absurd ways, like the guy who tried to kiss his pet scorpion. When it stung him in the face, he got angry and tried repeatedly to force the now terrified and defensive animal to accept a kiss. It stung him repeatedly, and he later died from the poison. None of the girls had heard of it before, so I explained what it was, and I pointed out that I distinctly recall reading about one young man who won the award by pulling a soda machine down on top of himself. The girls seemed incredulous at first, but the climber was sufficiently credulous that she stopped wrestling the machine. I assured them that I was serious, and then left to finish my errand. I could hear them resume their banging, punching, and pounding of the glass, but no more tilting or climbing.
So I chose to share this odd story because of something I read in the paper this morning, and which inspired me to propose that we develop and grant a similar award in the field of education, maybe call it the Dewey Award or something like that, and give it to the educator's) who make the most boneheaded, educationally unsound decisions each year around the country. We’d have to have a separate category for idiots who seduce their students, or else they would dominate the awards. It seems like we have had at least a half dozen of those in Connecticut alone just in the last couple of years. But I digress. This award would be solely for educators who make unsound educational decisions—poor pedagogical or administrative decisions, not just stupid personal decisions that impact education.

Anyway, I have my first two nominees. They are Linda Carpenter and Linda Callaway. Mrs. Carpenter is the Principal of Oak Meadows Elementary School in Menifee, California, and Linda Callaway is the Superintendent of Schools for Menifee Union School District, Mrs. Carpenter’s boss. David Kelly of the Los Angeles Times reports that last week a single, unidentified parent called Oak Meadows Elementary School to complain about the inappropriate content of a book being made available to students in the fourth and fifth grades. The book? Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary. The parent was particularly concerned about the dictionary’s definition of oral sex. I checked. The entry reads “oral sex, noun, oral stimulation of the genitals: cunnilingus, fellatio.” Now an isolated complaint from a single parent is not uncommon, especially about sex in a book (I still can’t get my mind around why I never hear of complaints about violence) but Mrs. Carpenter’s response was uncommon. She ordered that the offending books be removed—“temporarily housed off location”—and that a committee “of parents, teachers and administrators” be composed to meet and discuss “the extent to which the dictionaries support the curriculum, the age appropriateness of the materials and its suitability for the age levels of the students.”

I should know enough by this point in my career to not be aghast, but I am. They are banning the dictionary. Fortunately the school board president has called the decision “absurd,” and others have come forward to protest the decision of the principal. I particularly like one quote from Peter Scheer of the First Amendment Coalition. He said that when you ban books “eventually you end up with a library that is empty or partially full of dumbed-down or redacted versions of books. … Given what’s on television, let alone the internet, it is refreshing that students are actually looking up sexual terms in a dictionary. … At the end of the day, if my kid is digging through the Merriam-Webster dictionary to find words he and his friends are going to giggle over but along the way find other words they will use, I think that is a day well spent in school.”

Feel free to comment here or at the original Dictionaries and Vending Machines.

Make Up Sushi

2010-01-24T10:52:00.001-05:00

Dawson took me out for sushi tonight as an apology for his behavior the other night. We've both had time to cool down and he's had time to process the tongue lashing I gave him. Yes, B-Smuave was right as usual: he needed me to talk him down off the ledge, though he said he needed to be smacked back into reality first. While he didn't apologize for his rendezvous with Cougar, he did have a better outlook on life in general, especially his job. He didn't drink because he had to be at work early this morning-- that is a start.

We also took a trip up to Amazing.Net, an "adult superstore." I wanted to get some things to send in Apache's first care package, since he leaves for Afghanistan on February 4. Ended up getting a few things for me too, including the BodiTalkEscort which is a wearable bullet vibrator that is activated, get this, by your cell phone. Each time your cell phone sends or receives calls or texts, it goes off. I figured Apache would have fun with it when he comes home. Heh heh heh.

Spending today like I spent most weekends in college: reading for class and working out. I'm currently reading Angela the Upside Down Girl for class. I have to write a 3 page annotation of it.

A Pregnant Pause

2010-01-22T12:22:00.003-05:00

***This scene borders on TMI. Viewer Discretion advised ***

Scene: Apache and Aurora having a text message conversation about my newfound obsession with working out. Aurora was not able to work out last night due to being called in for a test shift at a local, very swank restaurant.

Aurora: Gym for me tonight. I looked like a pregnant penguin last night in my uniform. Not amused.

Apache: I bet you would look really beautiful pregnant.

Aurora: *blush*

Apache: HUGE boobs no doubt.

Aurora: Yeah, they were E's last time

Apache: WOW! Were they supersensitive too?

Aurora: Yea, I was pretty randy the entire time though.

Apache: MMM! Sounds awesome! I can't wait to see how you are when you are pregnant, since I get you pretty wound up now..but seriously, I think you'd be extremely beautiful pregnant.

***End Scene***

Umm.. okay...he is talking about me being pregnant with (assumedly) his child. In my experience, guys don't just randomly discuss this stuff with women they are casually dating. Should I take this as a scene he definitley is thinking about us becoming much more serious in the future? Even when I thought I was pregnant, he wasn't too freaked about it.

Thoughts?

The Difference Between Men & Women

2010-01-22T12:06:00.002-05:00

When I read the post by Cheryl at Confessions of a Twenty-Something year Old, I immediately agreed with her. After all, Dawson and I are best friends, and even though he and I have tried the dating thing once or twice, we always come back to this nice, easy, albiet a little too comfortable friendship. Men & women can be platonic best friends.

Less than 12 hours later, I went out to the a local bar to join girls for country line dancing. I'm trying to get into the workout groove again, but there are just some days I don't feel like running on the treadmill or sweating profusely to the Firm's videos. Line Dancing seemed like the perfect idea to get out of my house and dance away this funk that's been hanging over my head.

Dawson met me after he got out of work, and I was a little tipsy-- the caloric gains of dancing were negated by the four diet coke and Bacardis I consumed. Whoops. He texted Apache to let him know that he was there with me, reassuring him that even though I would never "Jody" him, he was still there to watch my back. Oh, and commented that I had lovely clevage that night. Apache, who knows Dawson well, laughed and asked him to send a picture. lovely.

So this woman I spent much of the summer bar hopping with (she's a friend of a friend) was there, and she was pleasantly surprised to see me there. She joined Dawson and I for a chat, and when she left, Dawson goes, "Who was that?" like the Cookie Monster who has just spotted a pizza size cookie. Dawson is fresh out of a relationship, and though he has several other females who he is "talking to" (read: fucking), he apparently wanted to add to his harem.

Do any of you ladies have "friends" who you just hang out with at a certain place-- like the gym, the bar, whatever, but would never consider a "bosom buddy?" This woman, hereafter known as Cougar, is one of those women. she's funny as HELL to be with at a bar, and since men swarm to her like bees to pollen, she's good for, shall we say, business (at least when i was single). She's an alcoholic, possibly a drug addict, and I can't trust her as far as I can throw her, and I'm pretty sure she's carrying one or more diseases.

Now, I NEVER cock block Dawson. Hell, I'd hook him up with good friends because he is that good of a guy. So, my issue with Cougar is NOT about jealousy. And he's always been the one to stop me from making stupid in lust mistakes. So, I attempted to warn him about this woman and how he might end up needing to stock up on pennicillian.

Does he listen to me? Abso-fucking-not. He takes her home, fucks her about a dozen times (because he was a little "pent up"), and then proceeds to tell me how good in bed she was. And, oh, he didn't use protection because she "told him she was clean." He was sober, so being drunk is no excuse.

He's proud of this fact because, "I've never just picked up a chick and took her home to fuck before." Lovely.

I get this story at 7 am this morning--well before my coffee hits my brain-- and I lose it. I mean reallly lose it. Where I might have once tried to counsel him "off of the ledge," I'm not going to. That's just disgusting, and I tell him so.

He calls several hours after the tongue lashing, to explain himself:

Dawson--my wonderfully loving best friend that will make some lucky woman a devoted husband-- has decided its not worth it to be nice any more, since he keeps getting walked all over, so he's going to be a man whore. His new mantra in life echoes David's from The Rest is Still Unwritten:

My new outlook is I don't give a fuck about women because they don't give a fuck about me. From now on, in my mind, they are only good for one thing - getting me off. They can fuck me and then get the fuck out. I don't want to get to know you and I don't want you to get to know me. I'm not your boyfriend. I'm not even your friend. I'm just some guy you're fucking. A guy that uses you just like you use him. Afterall, you're going to fuck me over in the end anyways, so let's just cut to the chase and do the fucking up front.

He also has decided he's going to drink every night, and doesn't really care if he loses his job (yes, he has an apartment, car payment, and bills just like the rest of us).

I just feel like this philosophy is so counterintuitive to his goals. He's just going to end up being unhappier (more unhappy?) than he was to begin with, when he finds himself pummeling into debt.

Maybe men and women really can't be platonic friends for reasons that have nothing to do with sex. I can't understand this philosophy AT ALL-- I think it's a guy thing. Apache is offering no insight--he works with Dawson at the power plant, so I think he just wants to remain outside of the conflict.

I mean, I do understand that he's sick of being hurt -- though he has a tendency to choose women that "need" him (ie: single moms). And there are women out there, not all of them, who are looking for a generous guy like him with a decent job to become a surrogate dad. He's had two women like that within a space of a year. It just seems counterintuitive to decide that he's just going to fuck and run, when the women that are going to be willing to accept such an idea, are not going to be women he should date.

And it goes without saying the risk factor for getting someone pregnant, getting an STD, or being the victim of a swimfan.

Am I crazy for being so upset about this?

Yesterday's Email from Apache

2010-01-17T13:43:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, Apache asked me what I thought of him. And in return, I asked him to answer the same question about me:

*

Hey Beautiful,
I keep re-reading your thoughts about how you view me. It's so hard for me to see any of that stuff in myself.
You are such an amazing woman and part of my attraction to you is that you don't see that. You don't intimidate me at all. I can say that because I've never considered myself a ladies man. I don't have "game". I've never walked up to a woman in a bar and tried to pick her up. I'm way too shy in person for that. I don't feel like that at all with you. Even that first time you came over my apt it felt really easy and natural.
You mentioned how it doesn't bother me that you are pretty intellectual? That's exactly right. I love the fact that you are without a doubt smarter than me. I can't stand stupidity as you may have noticed. I don't like ditsy women at all. You definately not like that.
I love how kind and thoughtful you are of others. Even though you've had some pretty bad shit done to you, you haven't let that color how how view people in general. I have a hard time doing that but you make me want to change that about myself.
The sexual side of you is undeniable out of this world! I love how you like to experiment with what's pleasurable and don't close yourself off to new experiences. You're right we are so alike in that sense. We're both even a little scared to show that part of ourselves to others.
So you see, I can't help but be attracted, drawn actually, to you. I just can't help myself and I'm totally fine with that. You are helping me in so many ways I can't even begin to explain or thank you enuf for. I hope that gives you a little insight that you were looking for. Ttyl beautiful.

*

*Blush* Thoughts, all?

Above the Knee

2010-01-14T11:41:00.002-05:00

**A Piece of Fiction I've created at Lesley. I welcome your comments and critiques..**

Mama said, “Never Shave above the knee.”

She taught me to prop my foot up against the hot faucet. Smooth the cool foam down wet calves. Hold the razor gentle in the dominant hand. Start at the base of the leg just above the anklebone on the side of the leg. Start by gliding the razor gently up the leg above the anklebone. Rinse the razor well every two inches. Don’t press too lightly. Don’t press too hard. You will get cut. Start at the bottom after each uphill journey, and work back to the top. Run your hand up to check your work.

Mama said, “Never shave above the knee.”

I shaved above the knee because I wanted him to touch me there, to slide calloused palms up my legs. I wanted him to marvel at the silky firmness. Be completed to rise his hand towards the dripping wet there.

Mama said, “good girls don’t shave above the knee.”

He said if I shaved there he would duck his dark head between my tights—promised me sensations I’d never felt before. Promised he’d snake his tongue into virgin wetness.

Mamma said, “only sluts shave about the knee.”

I shave above the knee now to hide the fact I once did The hair there is no longer soft and pale like the hair on my forearm used to be when I was young. Mamma sees my legs in the summer time, when bathing suit bottoms replace pants and jeans. Dark stubble looks out of place in the summer time.

Mamma said, “Don’t lie, girl, you’ve been shaving above the knee.”

He inspects my work each morning, pulling me on the bed, running hands up damp calves and sticky thighs. The satisfied groan he makes deeps in his chest when he feels no hair pleases me. I shave to make him sound like that each morning.

Mamma said, “If you shave above the knee, you’re gonna get cut.”

I can’t shave above the knee now. The baby in my belly blocks my view. I ask my best friend to come over and do it for me. He doesn’t seem to notice. He leaves each day before I wake. He works long hours to provide for the baby we’re too young to have. He comes home late at night, curling around my enormous belly and sleeps.

Mamma said, “Girl, you better shave above that knee.”

He never used to shave for me. I’d lace my fingers through the thick, erotic tangles on his chest as I fell asleep. I ignored the devilish vines encircling his thorn, and cried out in pleasure-pain when he rubbed day’s old growth into my neck.

He comes home, later than usual. Curls up far from me. The baby has just fallen asleep. Tired. I turn towards him. Wanting. Needing. Lonely. My face meets bare chest. Smooth cheek settles into the crook of my neck. Strange perfume settling in his dark hair. Naked tears wet my pillow as I turn away.

Mamma said, “Girl, you shoulda never shaved above the knee.”

Energized

2010-01-09T20:22:00.000-05:00

Lesley University's graduate residency is heavenly. Like seriously, I walk in here and literally hear "The Hallelujah Chorus" because I suddenly am surrounded by people who think, read, and write like me. It is, as Robert Frost says in "Directive,"Here are your waters and your watering place./Drink and be whole again beyond confusion."

I will have very little time to write this week though you will find I probably will become more prolific in the weeks ahead. Though we have only done one writing exercise, this community charges me with it's energy. I can't wait to put pen to paper, fingers to keys in a fervor I haven't felt in years. I am making it my goal to develop my voice and persona for the memoir I'm writing-- and I feel like this blog is where I develop that voice--a character that is me, but not totally.

I want to ask those readers out there for suggestions of books that I can read--memoirists and essayists that write about similar topics, though in different ways and perspectives that I can read, imitate, and learn from to add breadth to my writing. I need to put together a study plan for the next semester and am charged in supplying some of my own reading.

Any suggestions?

Aunt Flo's late arrival

2010-01-07T13:01:00.001-05:00

I AM NOT PREGNANT!

I woke up this morning to find Aunt Flo knocking on my door.

I really think it was stress. And several things happened yesterday that made me much less stressed.

1. After avoiding the scale for two weeks, I went back. Apache and I had gone out almost every night of the ten days he was home, and I was drunk for several of those nights off of high calorie drinks (IE: martinis & Grateful Deads). I stripped down to thin nylon shorts and a tank top with a shelf bra, and gingerly stepped on the scale. I lost 1.4. HOLY CRAP! I'm thinking that it was all the "activity" I did *evil grin* (hence the pregnancy paranoia-- seriously, I counted. We had sex 27 times in 10 days. And if I had actually jumped him in his sister's guest bathroom, in my car after Ihop, and at the Armoury like I was thinking of, it could have been 30. Apparently, he was thinking the same thing too.. *evil grin again*)

2. I got to talk to Apache last night on the phone. He and I have been texting back and forth, obviously, but when he arrived at Fort Polk, he said that he probably wouldn't be able to talk to me every day because there is horrendous service down there, and he is sleeping in a tent, so outlets to charge his cell are scarce. So imagine my surprise last night when I awoke to a phone call from him *awwww* it was nice to hear his voice because I can tell just how he is from the tone of his voice. Soo...needless to say I went to bed rather happy.

3. I had dinner last night with Dawson who is a veteran of the Iraqi War. We talked alot about my fears of Apache going over to Afghanistan. He eased my fears in some respects, and help me brainstorm things to send him in care packages. As he said it doesn't really matter what I put in the packages and letters as long as I send them, because there is no better feeling for a soldier to be able to go to the mail room and pick up something knowing someone cared enough at home to send them a package. So, my first package to him will be for valentine's day--I'm going to send him some sheets (that I already slept on so he can smell my scent) and a mattress pad plus a few treats and a few sexy things (he loves Wicked Weasel panties-- not for him to wear, obviously), like a Love Ewe. And the next one will be for his birthday. I'll probably end up sending him some party decorations, some silly toys, etc. I guess apparently the sillier the stuff you send them the better.

Dawson also "volunteered" to take sexy pictures of me. He's my best friend, I trust him with my life, and I know Apache would be okay with that since they are really good friends. So, I'm going to work hard on losing the weight, and take some of those after he comes home for R&R in April.

Any suggestions for care packages?

birth control anxiety

2010-01-06T11:59:00.001-05:00

I hate being female sometimes. The slower-than-a-tortise metabolism, the lack of upper body strength, all of those things i can handle. However, the pregnancy paranoia sucks. After being pregnant last summer, I spend the days following my last Birth Control pill obsessively checking the bathroom and agonizing over whether or not I am pregnant.

I took my last pill late Friday night. Aunt Flo has yet to stop by for her monthly visit. I've taken three pregnancy tests, two last night in the Wal-Mart bathroom, on this morning-- all say "not pregnant," yet still good ol' Flo is no where to be found. I bought the good pregnancy tests, Clear Blue Easy... the ones that say "Not Pregnant" so I can't fuck them up. They were the ones that said I was pregnant when I really was.

Apache is not Jay. I know he wants kids. He knows that I am "late," and his response was that he hopes I'm not only because he wouldn't be around when the child was born. Plus, he knows that we can't exactly afford a baby right now. I don't want to have a baby right now. I don't want to rush my relationship with Apache, I don't want to jeopardize my job, I don't want to add another stress in my life; and I don't want to gain more weight. I want children when I'm ready, in another year or two, when I have my Master's, but not now.
So, maybe I should stop panicing. After all, stress just make it later, right? And I have stress in spades these days-- between Apache leaving and that whole personal day fiasco that is STILL unresolved-- even though I leave for grad school on Friday.

I just called my OB/Gyn because I need, need, need some closure on this so I can stop stressing. I have way too much to accomplish in the days before I leave for grad school, and stressing about being pregant, when I most likely am not, is not helping.

Am I crazy? Does any one else have panic attacks like this too?

***UPDATE***

The GYN just called. He doesn't want to see me. Says to just go ahead and start my next pack of birth control as normal because a) I had three negative pregnancy tests, and b) missing periods sometimes happens when you have been taking birth control for a long time, and c) stress is probably the leading cause it all this. So, I'm going to try to explain that to poor Apache, and pray that my GYN knows what he's talking about.

I'll be seeing you

2010-01-02T18:52:00.000-05:00

Before I post, I just want to ask about how I can make my comments interactive-- in that if I reply to one of my comments the poster is notified of my comment? Anyone know how to do this?

To reply to Smart Ass Sara: I know exactly what you are saying. However, my problem with Doc was not really the fact that I never saw him, but that the intent to see me obviously was not there. With Apache, we are facing at least a 4 month seperation. However, I do not doubt that he wants to see me. I do not doubt his feelings for me. He kept all of the plans that he made with me for the 10-day leave plus made more. That means something to me.

Last night, I drove up to meet Apache at his sister’s house. Apache obviously wanted to be any where but there, so we drove to a tavern around the corner, had a few drinks. Unbeknownst to me, Apache hadn’t eaten anything all day, so he was quite drunk after 3 Patron and Cokes. He wanted sushi as his last meal, however we got lost on the way to the sushi place so IHop it was.

A Word of Advice: Stuffed French Toast (his) and Crepes with Nutella and bananas (mine) does not sit well with stomachs already filled with hard liquor. DogFace was texting him the entire time we were there. He obviously knew that I was upset, but I refused to tell him why. It hurts that he can’t just “exorcise her” from his life, but I know that it’s not that simple. As long as he is with me and the divorce is moving along, I am not going to begrudge him his wish to have as amicable as possible divorce. Whether it was the booze or the stress of the situation, I did get emotional about it—which made him emotional because he had no clue what was upsetting me. Luckily, he handled it perfectly—wrapping his arms around my waist as we walked back into the house, asking me to cuddle with him in front of the fire place.

It was a really long and sleepless night. Apache fell asleep a few times, thanks to the Patron. I cuddled into him, breathing in his smell—trying to memorize it. He uses Old Spice Body Spray (kinda like Axe), so I might buy some to use as linen spray at home (heh heh). I had bought a card at CVS on the way up to his sister’s so I spent some time writing a letter in it that I tucked into his backpack.

5 am arrived much too quickly, and we spent a few minutes with him sitting on the ottoman and me on the couch just holding each other. He asked me what I was going to miss most of all, and I said other than actually being in his arms, his smell. Without another word, he pulled off his tee shirt and handed it to me, so that I could keep it under my pillow and smell him whenever I needed to. I plan on sending him a stuffed animal when he finally arrives in Afghanistan sprayed with my perfume.

He left to shave and get dressed, and his mother came upstairs. Noticing that I seemed a little nauseous, she offered to make me some dry toast. I really, really like his mom. I felt immediately welcomed by her. Apache came back in the room, looking SO handsome in his ACUs. I felt really emotional at that moment, knowing that in just a few hours he’d be gone and it will be months before we are together again. But I was SO proud of him, too. He’s my soldier.

His mom, Apache, and I got in the car, picked up his aunt, and drove to the Armory. Knowing that our conversations from there on in at the Armory were not going to private, I texted him: “*kisses*

His response: “I’m falling for you, baby. ”

We arrived at the armory, and joined the other families there. They had chairs, coffee, and danishes ready for us, but Apache and I sat in the chairs, holding hands. His aunt and mom peppered me with questions, I think recognizing from our joined hands and intimate body language that he and I are much more than friends.

At 9 am, the call went up that the busses had arrived and it was time to go. We went outside to the busses, and shared our last goodbye. He hugged his mother, aunt, and I leaned into his embrace, expecting just a hug—not sure if he was ready to confirm to his mother and aunt what I was to him. He lifted my chin in his hands, and kissed me for a long time. I felt his hot tears splash against my cheek and it took all I had not to cry too. I didn’t want to. I wanted to show a strong front to him.

He walked away to join his buddies as we ladies watched, wiping away tears. A few minutes later, he came back for another goodbye—a longer hug and an even longer kiss before he had to join formation. As they “chanted” (not sure what the appropriate terminology), I grew even more sure that he is going to be okay. He’s not just strong, together they are Army Strong. In formation, he seemed relaxed. I know that when he gets there, and realizes his purpose, he will be okay. He kept turning his head, looking for us in the crowd and smiling. Finally, the formation disbanded and I expected him to walk towards his bus. However, he ran towards us for one final hug. His kiss then was stronger, fiercer, and his voice was raw with emotion as he whispered in my ear: “I AM coming back.”

He got on the bus, turning for one last wave, and that was that.

I texted him with exactly how proud of him I was.

His response: “Thank you for everything baby. It was an awesome week. I’m glad I spent it with you. “ He read my card as the bus pulled away, and let me know that it had made him cry.

The ladies and I left and I joined his mom at her house for a cup of tea as we talked about a lot of things. I thanked her for allowing me to be there when she said good bye, and she smiled: “{Apache} wanted you there. I know you love him, and he loves you—that’s obvious.”

We haven’t said those words yet, though I want to. I’m not rushing this whole thing with him. I am letting him take these steps in his own time. And he will. It was him, of his own doing with absolutely NO hinting from me, to invite me to his New Year’s Eve party then to see him off this morning. It was him that asked if he could give his parents my contact information.

I reaffirmed my promise to him that I will wait for him today, and he expressed regret that I am “putting my life on hold” waiting for him. I told him that I truly believe this separation will be good for us.

“1. I am in grad school. I would be neglecting you anyway if you were here. I have to concentrate on grad school. And when you come back, I will almost be done. . It forces us to talk. Im not sure about you but it felt like I knew you so well when you came home. That’s kinda bizarre for me when I’ve only known someone for a few months. 3. It’s not like you’re in boot camp. We have letters, texts, email, skype, Aim, phone calls—all of those things to keep us connected. 4. I am here to support you through everything and vice versa. 5. I live with my parents. My parents love you. A Chastity Belt is not necessary.”

So, my dear readers, I am alone, but not. Whenever I start feeling sad, because I miss him, I remind myself how lucky I am to have someone so special to miss. And my struggle is to support him in his even bigger struggle to survive in a foreign country that does not want him to be here. He doesn’t want to be there. He spent much of the last two days crying and apologizing for putting everyone through this pain. I’m going to be as strong as I can for him. I’m counting on you, my dear readers, to support me. I’m using this time to focus on me- to start my grad school and get as fit as possible so I can be one sexy “Army Wife” when he comes home.

Lord, grant me the greatness to see

The difference in duty and his love for me

Give me the understanding to know

That when duty calls he must go

Give me a task to do each day

To fill the time when he is away

And Lord, when duty is in the field

Please protect him and be his shield

Baby, I'll wait for you....

2010-01-01T15:06:00.000-05:00

A lot has seperated in the days since I last posted.

Doc & I have broken up of my own request. I am not going to date someone that cannot find time his infintely busy schedule to see or talk to me. Quite literally, I have gone a month between most of his visits. Despite his protests that he wants a relationship with me, his actions do not show it. I cannot be with someone who continually breaks dates on me because he'd rather work. Am I concerned that he was cheating on me? Not really--- I knew him for a year before we got together, and he is a workaholic. I just cannot be with someone I cannot count on because it's quite obvious that I am not a priority for him.

With that being said, it's going to come as a shock to you all that I've fallen in love. With Apache. After spending countless hours on the phone and web cam with him while he was at mobilization in Indiana, he came home on December 23. I picked him up at the Armory-- and thus began a week and a half of pure bliss. After all the time we spent talking, I wasn't shy. We spent most of the week together-- going to Kareoke, Club Hell, and seeing Avatar 3D and Sherlock Holmes. Each day has brought us closer and closer together. He took me (of his own request!) to his family's new year's eve party last night.

He leaves tomorrow for Indiana, Lousiana, then Afghanistan for the next year. I know it's going to be difficult, especially for a beginning relationship. But Apache has shown me he wants to be with me, something that Doc could not. From the texts, emails, and phone calls I could count on to him asking me to be his date to family functions and introducing me to his friends as his girlfriend, I know that I've found something special here. He brought me home this afternoon and I expected to say good bye to him here. As I turned to hug and kiss him goodbye, he asked me if I would go with him to his mother's house tonight. He wants me to go with him in the morning to say goodbye at the bus stop. I was floored. I never asked or suggested that-- he said he wasn't ready to say goodbye to me yet.....

As for him and DogFace, he's done with the relationship. She could only give him a few hours of the two weeks he spent in CT, and barely speaks to him. He plans on filing for divorce when he has access to an Army lawyer, probably in Lousiana.

I'm happy.. happier than I've been in almost a year. The circumstances are not ideal, but the pieces just seem to fit. I didn't begin talking to him, hoping to fall in love with him or lure him away from DogFace. It's simply what happened.

And so, my dear Readers, i'm going to need all the help I can get.

(he was wicked tired here)

101 Thanks!

2009-12-21T12:34:00.000-05:00

In neglecting this blog, I have also neglected to thank a few of my readers for awarding me and this blog with blog awards. To start off with, 101 thanks to Michelle at Desultory Diversions for choosing me as one of the recipients of the Happy 101 award!

To graciously accept this award, I must:
1. list 10 things that make me happy, and do at least one today

2. tag 10 bloggers that brighten my day
3. link back to my awarder

10 Things that make me happy

Recieving wonderful text messages from a certain man
Riding Magic
losing weight
Going out for sushi and talk time with Dawson
When my students just "get it"
blog comments (so, comment :-) )
Snuggling with Spooky
Giving presents to people
Laying on the beach
Watching Claymation Christmas movies, like Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer

10 Bloggers that brighten my day (in no apparent order)

Smart Ass Sara at Sara's Organized Chaos - I can always count on her for her honest opinion
Camile at Classroom Confessions - for her witty, honest writing and for becoming a good blog friend
Riley at Might be Half Empty, Might Be Half Full - because she is a new commenter on my blog!
The Not So Eligible Bachelor - because he makes me hot with every single post
Fai at Letters from a College Student- because I love her writing style
Rachelle at Rachelle Gardener, Literary Agent - because I love the frank advice on making it in the publishing world
Yeewuz at The Tracklist- because he alwas gives me ideas on what to download and I miss him knocking me out with a raquetball!
L.L. at I'm on My Way. Destination: Hell- because her posts make me laugh and I can relate to them all.
Christina Thomas at My Love Bugs-- I love the normalcy of her life and blog!
David at The Rest is Still Unwritten- because I have a major crush on this guy. I mean, who doesn't? He's more perfect than Edward Cullen

More posts to come including (!) photos of the 2-foot blizzard we had yesterday, the story of me FINALLY mastering to curl my hair, and, of course, two more blog awards!

You Know I could use somebody

2009-12-21T02:25:00.000-05:00

It's 2 am and I'm awake. As in "I know that I have to be out the door at 7am, but every time I close my eyes I can't fall asleep" awake. So I'm baking cookies for my Lit class tomorrow, and rebought Doc his Xmas present after his hint that I am getting something from Tiffany's made my gift of a GorillaPod tripod seem measly.

I know that I've been neglecting this blog and my wonderful readers lately. It's not that I feel like my life is perfect or all that, but that time seems to slip away from me these days. For example, I lost a few days of not tracking my points because one thing turned into another the past few days. Finally put pen to paper today, but i know the past few days will not be forgotten on the scale. Take the weekend for instance, I planned on grading a HUGE stack of PowerPoint projects for my 7th graders. Somewhere between the blizzard and starting to feel a sinus infection brewing, I forgot all about those papers. In fact, I seem to have misplaced them, but is not a good sign. I also have been keeping myself productive during my prep periods, which are normally the time I update my blog, because I know that I will be out the week before grades are due to attend my residency for grad school. I'd like to go away with a light heart knowing that the majority of my grades are done.

Which brings me to what really has been bothering me. I am going away to my grad school residency in January. Knowing that there was a precedent in my school to use professional development time to attend grad school classes, I applied for it. It was denied on the grounds that the school cannot afford to pay for it, as they are already over budget due to being forced to outplace a child to a rather expensive private school. After talking with the superintendent, he agreed to let me take my personal days to go there and take the other two unpaid. So, I filed the necessary paperwork, thinking it was a done deal.

Imagine my suprise when my personal day requests were denied on the grounds that grad school does not count as a "personal or professional obligation". The Superintendent's opinion: I CHOSE to go to this grad school with this requirement, therefore I need to suffer the consequences of it. However, for me to take SIX unpaid days to go to grad school would be a financial blow I don't think I can or should handle, especially with all the time that is given to me.

The union has a big, big problem with this. First off, according to our contract, we do not have to tell what we use our personal days for. Secondly, if grad school is not a "professional obligation" in a state that requires new teachers to reach Master's level in a certain amount of time, I'm not sure what is. Thirdly, allowing the superintendent to deny personal days due to financial hardship in the district is setting a very dangerous precedent.

So, the union has filed a grievence against the district citing breach of contract. It is currently in the superintendents office and he has until 3 pm tomorrow before we bring the matter up to the Board of Education. I, for one, am petrified of this happening. I'm scared of being pegged as a "troublemaker," though I'm simply asking for what is contractually given to me. In a world where nontenured teachers can simply not be offered a contract at the end of the year with no reason given, that is a very scary idea indeed.

Supposedly I will be having a meeting tomorrow afternoon with the Superintendent about all this. Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers. I'm really scared.

Trying to sleep now.

a Hair Don't

2009-12-14T23:15:00.000-05:00

So, after rocking long, luxurious blond locks, I decided I wanted something a bit darker. So, I went to my trusty stylist and had her dye it a deep mahogany. It turned out a dark blood red. I hate it.

Seriously, I'm laying in bed crying right now because I really don't want to look at myself in the mirror. I miss being blond so bad I can taste it. I really like my colorist and I'm not blaming her in any way, shape, or form for his lapse in judgment.

I just Facebooked her asking her to get me an appointment ASAP so I can go back to Blond. I feel like a total idiot, and my hair is probably going to fall out from the color, but I really, really miss being blond.

Anyone ever pull a stupid hair don't?

Before

After

I'm backkkkkkkkk

2009-12-08T19:56:00.000-05:00

Didja miss me?

I'm sorry for the unexplained hiatus and thank you to Camile for the very concerned email last night. I am okay and I'm sorry for leaving my blog readers for so long!

I've been really busy trying to straighten out my priorities. I'm trying to take care of my health, weight, work, Magic, and grad school. I haven't really been online at all.

So what's new in my life?

* I've adopted a soldier, per se. Remember how Dogface is married even though she's playing house with Jay? Her husband, we'll call him Apache, is in the Army. Right now he is in mobilization in Indiana before being deployed to Afghanistan for a year. About a month ago, I sent him a message on MySpace telling him how sorry I was that this whole situation had to go down and that I wished him the best. We started exchanging emails back and forth then texts. He's becoming a wonderful friend and now that he's at mobilization we've been writing back and forth. I've sent him a few care packages as well. He still loves her and hopes that she will come to her senses soon. He's a great guy and seeing how torn up he is over his wife's infidelity angers me. What angers me even more is that Dogface a) blames him for her cheating because he left her along to go to boot camp, b) insists that he take her places like the movies or the hospital when no one else is available, c) tells him she still loves him and wants to grow old with him while playing house with Jay. Seriously, this makes me want to beat this bitch up even more than I already do. Anyone want to help?

* Doc and I are okay. This relationship is hard to be in because of his work schedule-- I barely see him. We went out Black Friday night for a few hours then I saw him for a few hours after work on Tuesday. He's been in NYC since Friday at a Behavioral Analysis conference. I care about him, and I love the time we spend together even if it's only a few hours every week.

* I'm back on WW. This is the beginning of my third week On Plan. I lost 2.8 last week, and gained 4.6 this week (I should be getting my period on Thursday). I'm more serious about it now than I have been for a very long time. Apache and Doc have my back on the whole thing, and both have been wonderful supporting me through weak moments.

That's all the updates I have for now. Running to Wal Mart to pick up some healthy WW food for the week. I missed you all!

Glambot?

2009-11-25T11:06:00.000-05:00

I totally am in absolute love with this song. I love the beat; I love the lyrics; and I love the way his performance. I know that he's openly gay, but I am totally in lust for him, especially at 0:47-0:55 of this video. *sigh*

You know that I all am a sucker for bad boys, though they're usually clean cut, military guys. Adam Lambert though has this dark sexy bad boy thing going on, and he's eerily similar to the way I pictured Edward to be as I read Twilight before the movies came out.

So, this has totally become my anthem of the winter, and I'm running to it. Plus, once I hit weight goal, this is going to be my performance song for my pole dancing class.

Anyone else obsessed with this song?

A Krabby Kristmas Karol

2009-11-24T09:57:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, my students and I began reading the first Stave of Dickens's A Christmas Carol. As we began compiling a description of Scrooge, one of my students, C, raised his hand:

"So, Scrooge is kinda like Mr. Krab?" he asked, a reference to Spongebob Squarepants.

My first instinct was to chastize him for being off topic, because he often is. Biting my tongue, however, I asked him to explain himself.

The comparison he drew were analysis-paper worthy. He talked about the similarities between the two characters (the obsession with the almighty dollar) and how Mr. Krab, being a crustacheon, is as cold-hearted as Scrooge. He even talked about how Spongebob's writers specifically chose a crab for the tight-fisted boss because crabs are naturally tightfisted and, well, stereotypically "crabby."

It might not have been an analysis fitting Cliff & his notes, but I applauded him for making text-to-self and text-to-world connections. I also told him he should write Nikelodian and get them to produce a Spongebob Christmas Carol special.

I'd love to hear tidbits from fellow teachers about the weird brilliance their students have come up with!

Dawson to my Joey

2009-11-20T12:28:00.001-05:00

So, I have this friend who I'm going to call "Dawson" for the purposes of this blog. Dawson and I are friends. Best friends. Beyond that though, we are soul mates. We met when he started dating my best friend at the time (RedHeaded Slut), and when we met we instantly recognized each other as kindred spirits. We've been there for each other through good times (college graduations, triumphs) and the bad (breakups of serious relationships and flings). We've even tried dating once or twice. It makes sense, right? Shouldn't you marry your best friend? For us though, it's never been the right time. We've always turned to each other in times of need. The problem is, like Joey says in Season 5 of Dawson's Creek, ""...how do I know I'm not just this security blanket for you? Something you'll keep coming back to when the world gets scary?".

I'm okay being his emotional security blanket. I'm okay with being there offering him advice and helping him pick up the pieces when it all falls apart. God knows he's done the same for me. It was Dawson who threw his credit card down at the bar, didn't bother to wait for it to be run, and charged out of the door to come rescue me when I sat at the end of my dock, contemplating downing a bottle of pills because the pain of losing Trevor, Jay, and the baby was too much to bear.

He did it again last night when I drove an hour to hang with DogFace's husband,and was there for an hour, before DogFace "summoned" him to go to the premiere of New Moon with her (I know Jay wouldn't be caught dead there). Slightly upset, I called Dawson and showed up at his house with McDonald's milkshakes and french fries (his favorite). We watched Click and I snuggled up in bed with him to spend the night. Even though we've had history, it's easy to forget that. I'm comfortable telling him I love him, and know that he loves me back, and that's it's completely okay with this relationship we have together.

I'm grateful to have such a great best friend.

**update**

Doc & I are perfectly fine. After writing that blog post, I sent him a text message asking him what was going on ... his response was that he's still sick, heavily medicated, but would never break up with me. We've briefly talked every day. He's still in Boston, staying with his friend's parents, so he's near to the hospital in case of an emergency. He tells me that he misses me and can't wait to see me soon.

So, I'm paranoid. and life is good.

The Reason for the Season

2009-11-20T08:56:00.000-05:00

“’I wear the chain I forged in life,' replied the Ghost. 'I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it.’”

~ A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

I begin reading A Christmas Carol with my seventh graders today. This week, as I planned out the schedule of my unit, I created an activity asking students to think about Jacob Marley's chain symbolical. This is a vivid image—a warning that we each forge chains that enslave us every time we wrong another. We are literally tied to our past, and cannot escape our wrongs. In our own lives, we have felt our own wrongs weighing upon us like Jacob Marley’s chains.

I gave them the assignment of creating their own chain. Like Marley, they will forge your chain link by link. They will create three links made from any medium they wish (paper, clay, etc), but must be decorated to represent events in their lives that mirror Scrooge’s and Marley’s—events that represent greed and selfishness.

So, I sat down on Monday to create my own chain as an example. As I brainstormed the selfish & greedy things I have done, I realized that Christmas for me has become about crossing items off my wish list. Hence why I have spent a few idle hours browsing the web compiling a hyperlinked list to email to family and friends. So, I crafted a link out of Christmas wrapping paper to represent the times when I expected to recieve, but did not give. Sure, I exchanged gifts, but I usually bought the lowest priced items.
More importantly, I did not give those in need presents.

Yesterday, our school's Student Council came out with the names of children in our school who need to be sponsored for children. Then it hit me-- here was the way to take my assignment from the classroom to the real world. I was going to have my children create their chains, then do some sort of act to break the chain, like Scrooge does at the end of the novella. And I was going to be the real-life example.

I took the name of a child, Briana, who wanted nailpolish and a manicure set for Christmas. I decided to go one step further:

I also adopted a child from the Connecticut Education Association (our teacher's union at the state level) for their Holiday Bear program. My child is a nine year old boy from an inner city school, and I can't wait to go shopping for him this weekend! Sure, I could be using that money to buy myself or my family something, but my family is fortunate enough to live comfortably, have enough money for presents and holiday feasts, and will not miss extravagant gifts that I could buy them with that money.

I hope that at this time of year, you are all giving thanks for what matters most--family, love, and security.

"Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him."

trouble in paradise?

2009-11-17T14:11:00.000-05:00

I haven't talked to Ben since Sunday night. Saturday night we were fine-- we had a rather, ahem, stimulating text message convo. He's out of the hospital on Saturday and has been staying with a friend to make sure that he does not have to go back into the hospital.

Sunday, he didn't text me all day, and I finally texted him on my way to the gym. He said that he had been sleeping all day. I apologized for bothering him, and his response was , "Hun, you never bother me."

And that's all I've gotten from him. No usual text in yesterday morning, or today for that matter. This is not like him. at all. His texts were like clock work.

I'm fucking nervous. That's all I can say. nervous. There's no reason for him to be mad at me. We've barely been together because of his illness-- could that be the problem? Is he back in the hospital? Has he lost interest?

*sigh*

Equine Affaire

2009-11-15T11:43:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, I went to Equine Affaire, an annual world-class educational program, extensive trade show, and a friendly competitions. It is the chance for horse owners and riders to see clinics and most importantly spend some serious cash on new things (which are completely discounted!)

I did all of the above.

Entrance: $14
Lunch/Dinner: $20
Irish Knit Sheet: $39.95
Id Bracelet (for me): $20
Bridle Bag: $20 (all moneys go to Ride for the Cure/Susan Komen Foundation)
Ride for the cure tee: $10
new bridle: $45

Bridle Id tag: $9
Whip: $6
Cell phone holder: $9
Turnout blanket: $60

I am not going to even total that to know how much got added to my credit card :-(

A great day and totally worth every single penny

skydiving injuries

2009-11-12T08:28:00.001-05:00

So, Doc is STILL in the hospital to be monitored for pneumnoia (or so he told me..) Last night, he let it slip the REAL reason that he's been in the hospital since Saturday.

He has a punctured lung and infected chest cavity.

Doc went skydiving at the beginning of September for his bachelor's party (for the wedding that got called off minutes before the ceremony)... and cracked a few ribs. Since he's had a nasty cold for the entire month of October, one of those ribs broke and scratched his lung. The scratch turned into a tear which is infected. A specialist came and saw him last night, and I was told via text at 1 am that the infection "is worse than they orginally thought." What that exactly means, I'm not sure. I was asleep for that text.

So, he's still in the hospital being monitored... And he doesn't seem to want me to visit, I think because he doesn't want me to worry any more than I am already...

Case of the Ex

2009-11-11T02:54:00.001-05:00

So... I had to tell somebody since this info is highly classified.

I went out with Jay tonight.

Now before you throw rubber chickens, ham bones, and regurgitated baked beans at me, let me explain.

He is up in my area celebrating his Marine Corps birthday, and saw me pull into my driveway. He honked and I texted him to say hello. One thing led to another and we made plans to go play some pool while I waited for Doc to get home from Boston(he never showed...)

We played pool and drank, and started talking. Since this was the first time I've seen Jay away from DogFace some things became quite clear.

1. Things are not good in their relationship. Jay knows for certain that his days with DogFace are limited. She still is married and has no plans of divorcing her husband, though they are living apart. It was quite sad to hear him talking about how she comes home wearing her husband's Oakley's and smoking his cherry cigars.

2. Jay does feel remorse about the baby. We were talking about my trust issues with Doc, and he tipped my face up towards him, and apologized for everything. And he cried, something he does not do, ever. I'm not sure what let him let go now, but he cried. And by bringing it up, he gave me permission to say what I had been wanting to say to him for a while. That I wasn't mad about him not wanting the baby, but how he treated me both before and after the abortion.

3. Jay did care about me and still does. We talked about the end of us, which seems to be a lot of misunderstandings. He was upset because of how I seemed to be trying to worm my way into his life, when I thought I was doing what he asked of me... make friends. He admitted how strong his feelings for me were at the time, and how things might have been different if it hadn't ended so badly. We're just friends, but it seems obvious that more is possible some day.

4. He's attracted to me. still. that was quite obvious. He kept calling me baby and m'lady....

5. He admitted that we were dating and he was my ex-boyfriend, when he was so adamantly against those words while we were dating.

6. According to Jay, he and Dogface did not start sleeping together until July-- after my abortion.....not sure if I believe that or not.

I didn't cheat on Doc, nor did I want to. But it was nice to see Jay emotional for once. And all of this makes me very wistful for those 7 months last winter when I felt like I had it all....

Worst girlfriend ever

2009-11-10T17:57:00.000-05:00

It's parent confrences day which means that while I got to sleep in late, go for a run, and get my nails done before reporting to work at noon today, I'm imprisioned in my classroom until 7. Doubly sucks that I have had not one parent visit me. I'm the computer teacher-- who visits their kids computer teacher during Parent Confrences. And the kids I have in my one LA class, most of their parents emailed back to say that since their children earned at least a C, they didn't feel they needed to see me. I wish I could have emailed back to tell them exactly how much of a process it took for their child to earn that C...but I didn't.

Instead, I spent the day planning my classes from now till Thanksgiving, and making photo copies. Particularly excited by the upcoming unit on A Christmas Carol, especially after coming back from the Connecticut Reading Association with a bunch of kickass ideas.

Picture books = language arts heaven

That's not to say my kids are reading picture books in lieu of other things, but I am using picture books, such as Piggybook by Anthony Browne to introduce concepts that I expect them to use with our literature.

I just got my period which means that I am wicked crampy and cranky, particularly because I feel like there are two elephants sitting on my chest. I am also extremely sexually frustrated because I haven't seen Doc since Wednesday night. He landed himself in the hospital Saturday which an infected lung- thankfully not caused by swine flu. However, since it seems like something always happens to postpone our dates, I accused him of not being in the hospital.

His response:

Yup, worse girlfriend in the world. He spent two nights in the hospital, and thankfully understood my paranoia. All he asked was that I pick up a "care package" for him at Frederick's. Any suggestions? (Especially from you Not-So-Eligible Bachelor)

I promise to get a much better picture of Doc as soon as I see him. Well, maybe not as soon as, since I have other priorities in mind, but I definitley will get one for you all.

Fellow Blogger users, does anyone know how to get the date to appear with your blog entries?

TMI Thursday: Falling

2009-11-05T19:01:00.000-05:00

I hope you all have or will be lucky enough to know what it feels like to be with someone with whom your emotional connection equals or exceeds physical desire. I hope you've all felt what it feels like to make love, other than "fucking," which is essentially tandem masturbation, as Tom likes to say.

Needless to say, I had an amazing night with Doc. He combines Jay's sexual prowess with Trevor's caring. Sex aside, what struck me most was how he acted the whole night long. A very private person, Doc's PDA is restricted to hand holding, kissing on the cheek, or a rub on the back. In the privacy of my apartment, I realized how affectionate he is. I'm sure many readers will attest how truly amazing it feels to be kissed on the cheek, forehead, or shoulder. It's amazing to be held close all night long, no matter how much you move.

Needless to say, I am falling.

My time with Doc was not just spent in the bedroom. We lounged in front of my fireplace drinking wine. Okay, I sipped a glass of Truro Cranberry Wine while Doc sipped a decaf white chocolate mocha latte from Starbucks. Doc is a purist--vegetarian, doesn't drink or smoke, and avoids caffeine (he's allergic). We talked about our pasts. I was relaying the story my mother told me about how she told my father she loved him on the second date. Very softly, he responded, "what's wrong with that?" A long silence followed. Not sure what that was all about.

All in all, a night with Doc is something I could get used to.

I fought the law and I won

2009-11-05T09:02:00.000-05:00

I'm away from my computer attending the Connecticut Reading Association's annual conference. Very excited about it because the school is sending me for two days, which is significant because it seems to suggest that the school thinks of me as a Language Arts teacher, and not just the Technology teacher. :-)

I've written this at 9:05 pm on Wednesday night. I'm waiting for Doc to arrive at my apartment-- we are having out first night in/sleep over to say farewell to my apartment. However, Doc's windshield broken by a projectile falling off another car on his way out of Boston, so he's a little late. Luckily, he's okay. The Saab-- not so much.

I went today to court to fight the speeding ticket I received in the middle of August. I planned my defense very carefully. I printed out a map of the area and marked my route using a highlighter. Then, I drove the route, marking down where all the speed limit signs are. Just as I thought, the speed limit was not 25 mph until well after where he caught me.

Armed with this visual aid, I drove to the courthouse. After paying my $25 in court appeal fees, I met with the magistrate. A representative from the police department was there. As I pled my case, the officer started laughing. The magistrate turned to him and asked if he could refute any of what I said. The officer threw his hands in the air, shook his head, and said, "nope, she's right!"

yes.....

So, the magistrate found me not responsible so I do not have to pay the fine and it will not go on my record.

As I left the courtroom, the officer shook my hand and said, "I feel sorry for your students who try to argue their way out of a detention. Have you ever considered a career in law?"

My life-- in pictures

2009-11-04T13:28:00.000-05:00

(l-r) a friend, Doc, his ex-fiance

(I'll work on getting a better one of Doc this weekend)

Jay

DogFace

Trevor & Magic (Christmas 2007)

Magic

a conversation

2009-11-03T09:51:00.000-05:00

via text, last night

me: when is ur bed being delivered? - Doc has been sleeping on a couch for the past month while he waited for the bed he ordered to come in.

doc: thursday

me: nice... who ya gonna get to help you christen it? ;-)

doc: well I was thinking u could....

me: I like ur thoughts... can I ask you a question?

doc: yes

me: Does we're dating mean we r exclusively dating? (I've been wondering this for a while..figured I'd may as well ask....)

doc: yea good q. what do you think or want?

me: I'd like to be exclusive... I really like you and i have no plans or interest in seeing ne one else. don't want to pressure you though.

doc: i like ur thoughts. :-*

me: ok. so we r exclusive then? (I'm always one to clarify)

doc: yup

Yay for exclusivity!

a definition

2009-11-02T23:22:00.000-05:00

Ex-clu-sive: adjective:

excluding or tending to exclude all others; shutting out other considerations, happenings, existences, etc. an exclusive interest in sports
excluding all but what is specified “only” is an exclusive particle
given or belonging to no other; not shared or divided; sole an exclusive right to sell something

anyone wanna guess what happened to me tonight? :-D

Curling Iron Inept

2009-11-02T20:28:00.000-05:00

I've decided to participate in National Blog Posting month as a way to increase my creativity as I work on compiling my large and small group manuscripts for grad school. As a way of forcing me out of my comfort zone, I'm going to restrict talks about relationships to a bare minimum, though I will keep you abreast of developments with Doc.

My post for this Monday is on a rather embarassing, little known fact about me:

I am completely inept when it comes to curling my hair

I have long, wavy blond-brown hair that I love wearing in different styles. On a daily basis, I rock buns, pony tails, straightened hair, and pig tails. I would LOVE to be able to wear my hair in curls a la Taylor Swift or a Cosmopolitian cover

My hair curls-- I do not. I've tried hot rollers, curling irons, and flat irons. All I get is one big, hot mess. I can't seem to curl it evenly, get the curls to stay, or seperate my straight hair from my curly hair.

I've even watched multiple tutorials on how to do it.

In preparation for Halloween's beer wench costume, I watched the below tutorial.

After a few tries, I mastered the technique. I was getting the cute little ring curls. Then I had technical difficulties. My 1 inch straightening iron (a cheapie from Tj Maxx since I use the 1 1/2" more often) started to stick-- ceramic plates my ass. My hair kept getting stuck as I pulled the iron through, definitley not good for even heating.

Once some money comes in (paid my last rent check today-- yay!), I'll buy a 1" Chi iron (I have the 1 1/2" one) and try again.

I tried to finish the style with a curling iron. An hour later, I called my grandmother for help. She's 80 and cannot hear very well. As she finished my top layer, she pressed the curling iron into my forehead. I started screaming, she pressed down harder until she figured out what was going on.

The result-- a very nasty burn on my forehead. It resembles a giant hickey. wonderful.

Anyone else have hair issues?

Sleeping Beast

2009-11-01T15:58:00.000-05:00

Update: I was right-- Doc's Saab was not in the parking lot. He had dropped it off to serviced after leaving my house yesterday, and had his other car, which was in the parking lot the entire time. (When he described the car to me, I do remember it being there..it's hard to miss--a red BMW). He had taken some Tylenol Cold & Sinus and gone over to the room to take a nap before I came back. He ended up sleeping through the night an into the better part of the afternoon-- he called around 2:30 apologizing profusely. I went there to get my bag, and we talked. I told him how damaged I am and how I am trying so hard to trust him. He normally makes it easy to trust him, but things like these reverse all of the work he does. He totally gets that.

So, I'm giving him another chance, though I've made it pretty clear that he is only getting one more...

Disappearing Act

2009-11-01T09:17:00.000-05:00

I went out last night with a few friends. Doc's restaurant was throwing a Halloween celebration, and my friends and I went there first. I was dressed up as Beer Wench, and Doc was Mario from Super Mario Bros. The restaurant was kinda dead, so Doc told me that I shouldn't feel as if I had to stay there with him all night. So, I told him that I'd go with my friends to a Halloween party, and he asked me to come back around 11:30 for the costume contest.

At 10:45, I got a text from him: "Nap Time :)". He had rented a hotel room (the restaurant is in a hotel), and had been sneaking over there during the day to get some sleep cause he was still sick.

When I got there at 11:30, he was no where to be found. I waited a little while, then started texting.

11:52: u awake?

11:59: "I came back like u asked and i'm alone at the bar cuz everyone is too drunk to drive again. Wru?

Douchebag showed up, and as it neared 12:30, I asked him I should go over to the hotel, and ask what room he was in. Douchebag's response:

"Well, that'd be fine. But what if he's in there with another girl?"

Not cool. Comments like that had made me paranoid about my relationship with Trevor, and I'm trying hard to keep those doubts out of my relationship with Doc.

I decided at 12:30 to just let him sleep, and left to go home. As I drove through the parking lot, though, I noticed something interesting: his Saab wasn't in the lot. He does have two cars, but he was at my house earlier in the day driving the Saab. I have no clue what his other car looks like, and I doubt that he would have driven home (30 mins away) before going back to work.

My final message to him, at 12:34: "Where the hell did you go ur cars not even here? Im leaving for a while. Text me if you wanna chill later."

If he left, why didn't he text or call to tell me he was leaving especially since we had made plans? Also, my bag full of my clothes and make up is in his office, which he locked when he left.

So, now the waiting game begins. The restaurant opens at 11, and I'm not sure if he's managing, but I need my bag. I'm not sure how to approach this. I'm thinking that it's time to be up front with him-- I am damaged, and I have trust issues, and stuff like this does not make it easier for me to trust him.

Back on the wagon

2009-10-29T15:33:00.000-04:00

It's not whether you get knocked down; it's whether you get up - Vince Lombardi

I've had a few indifferent weeks on program-- hovering around my points target and drinking a few too many full-caloried drinks on the weekends. I'm not being gluttonous, but for my body type and what I want to accomplish, I'm not doing well.

I've also been so mentally exhausted at the end of each day that after the barn, I come home, eat supper, plop myself on the couch, and surf facebook or watch tv until bedtime. And I've been going to bed at like 8 or 9 because my body seems to need a tremendous amount of sleep these days.

So I'm going to Weight Watchers tonight and facing the mirror. Good, bad, or ugly. The money situation is starting to ease up slightly, so I'll definitley be allowing myself to buy a gym membership at the gym near work on Saturday-- using my sister's membership would be free, but it's so not feasible since it's in a completely different town not anywhere near my route home.

I just miss my old body. I miss feeling comfortable in my own skin, and I'm deathly afraid of sliding back to where I was before. I need to stop this runaway train in its tracks now....

My major problem is planning. As the old WW adage goes, "if you fail to plan, you plan to fail....", especially when it comes to lunches. I often end up buying lunches at school, which are far from healthy.

So, Dear Readers, what do you bring for lunches at work?

A cold, NCIS, and a jealous ex

2009-10-27T15:26:00.000-04:00

So, I've got it bad. Like, really bad. As in "I-was-looking-forward-to-my-date-with-Doc-tonite,-but-he's-sick-so-now-I'm-sad bad. I'm really falling for this guy...

So, instead of ordering Chinese, curling under a blanket, and feeling sorry for myself, i'm going to go do something productive. Like borrow my sister's gym pass (she bought a year, and hasn't used it once) and have a good run on the elliptical, so I can not feel guilty for sitting down with a glass of cranberry wine and watching the new episode of NCIS tonight. Trick is to make sure that I run BEFORE NCIS...

Making me feel better is the text Doc sent me before he slipped into a Nyquil induced coma: "i'm dirty and i'm sick and i miss u all at the same time..."

*melts*

Oh, Jay has recently become a friend of mine on Facebook. He seized upon my newly "in a relationship status" with gusto: "how old is he 17". He also sends me this message, "so then do u want to try again now that you r in a relationship and u dont have a thing for me anymore or do u".

Erm, what are we trying again? Certainly not a relationship or even a sexual arrangment....

And this is why I keep Tom around.... Tom comments back to Jay, "Hey, more of a man than you at that age than how you've been acting bro. Back off"...."And for someone who doesn't care about her, seem to like being in her business".

Hmm... someone is jealous that the toy he put away on a shelf is no longer available for him to play with if he ever decides to. Interestingly, Jay has declined to post a relationship status of his own, and his DogFace still advertises her status as "married." Interesting. I wouldn't doubt that he's keeping their relationship on the DL so he can have a little something on the side.

<3 This is why Tom is my BFF... cause he always has my back, even when it might start work-related drama since he and Jay happened to work at the same place.

Yes, yes, life is good...

Do You Have a First Aid kit handy?

2009-10-26T15:13:00.000-04:00

A week back into the dating game, I've realized something very important: the most difficult thing is not allowing yourself to love another, but to stop yourself from persecuting the new guy for the sins of the old.

"The one before you left me so damaged..." - Dainty Kane

There is so much truth in that line. I have a wonderful time with Doc. He faithfully texts me every morning at 10 or so (he initiates-yay!). As for the inability to carry a text message conversation, that has improved. But I've also realized something. Like me, he has a job that requires his complete concentration. He can't carry a full conversation with me during the day, and vice versa His texts are a way of keeping in touch, to let me know that he is thinking about me. Physically together, we have fantastic conversations and chemistry-- plus he's rivaling Jay in the bedroom skills department. ;-)

So, what's the problem? I'm falling for him, like I fell for Jay and Trevor. Because of the horror show of my last two breakups, I am petrified of this ending the same way. So, I read into things too much. Yesterday, for example, we made tentative plans to go out. As in, he was cleaning his apartment, doing laundry, and cleaning his 200 gallon fish tank, and would text me when he was finished. A few minutes later, I texted him, and was like "would it be easier if I just came over there?" No response.

So, I start to freak out. While with Jay and at the end of Trevor, no response was the equivalent of the silent treatment. I wondered if I had overstepped my bounds-- I have yet to go to his house (he lives about half an hour away from me and the restaurant.) Hours passed, and still no response. Anxiety level increases.

I do have a problem with anxiety. I'm aware of it, and am on medication for it. The meds only helps so much; anxiety attacks do happen, especially when I work myself up.

At 8 o'clock, I decide that he hates me, that I annoyed him, that he's mad at me for being too forward, and go to bed.

I wake up this morning to a text from Doc sent at 9:24 pm: "Hey hunny ur text just came through. I thought you forgot about me. I'm sorry I was cleaning all day. :( I missed spending time with you."

So, my fears were unjustified. The mini Snickers bar I ate (damn Halloween candy) unnecessary. Luckily, I hadn't freaked out on him, like this poor girl did. It was simply a case of no service and late text messages, which in our area of CT happens very frequently. The hills, valleys, and dales often prevent phones from getting a signal. Understandable.

Anyone else feel like this, or am I totally crazy?

I think I'm falling for you....

2009-10-20T12:24:00.000-04:00

In the days that have followed since I last met Trevor, I'm surprisingly okay. I've given up; I've let go, and allowed myself to find the beauty and the opportunity in the world around me. This might have taken two diet coke and rums, two margaritas, and a basket of freshly made tortilla chips to realize, but I've done it. In all honesty, I haven't shed a tear since Thursday night. &, as alarming as that is for me, I'm honestly okay.

One of the things that I've promised myself is that I will start opening myself up to possibilities, whatever that might mean; on Friday night, a figurative door opened up.

I used to waitress at a Mexican restaurant a few towns over. When I applied for the job, one of the owners, hereafter called Doc, spent the interview telling me how pretty I was. Over the next few months, Doc & I worked together and got to know each other. In addition to owning the bar portion of the restaurant, Doc is a psychiatrist with a MA from Northeastern and a Doctorate from Boston Graduate School of Psychoanalysis. He's 30. Honestly, we flirted back and forth, even though I was with Trevor, then Jay, and he was engaged to one of the other owner's daughters.

Their relationship was a rocky one, and as both our relationships soured, we sought each other to rant and cry. After their relationship ended (he was the one that did the ending), he started asking me out. I turned him down a few times; I didn't want to be the rebound girl. I also still felt like I was somehow cheating on Trevor. But, after letting him go, I felt different. He asked me out again on Friday night (prior to the margaritas), and I accepted.

I was glad I did. We went out last night to grab a drink. We were suppossed to have dinner, but he got stuck in some heavy traffic on the Pike out of Boston. Rush hour is never a good thing in this part of New England, with three major cities relatively close to one another (Worcester, Boston, & Providence). I had a great time. He's easy to talk to, funny, and incredibly smart. It's been a long time since I've been with someone who is my educational superior, or even my equal. I home by 10 since both he and I have to work early in the morning. He kissed me very sweetly when I got out of the car, and told me that he'd be talking to me soon. I got a text about an hour later when he got home, and then one this am at 10. During one of these text messages, he asked me what my favorite flower was. Interesting...

So, a question for my readers. Is the fact that I can't keep a text message conversation going indicative of something? We have long conversations when we're together, but relatively short ones when we text. I myself run out things to say on text, especially since I'm often doing something else while I'm texting. I also don't believe that text messaging is for long, intense conversations anyway.

Thoughts on or tips about this?

It's really over

2009-10-16T20:32:00.000-04:00

I met Trevor at the mall near his house. I wasn't sure why he picked there, in a specific spot away from much of the mall traffic. I took along my friend Deb (a former FBI agent). His car wasn't in the parking lot, but as I checked in the rearview to make sure my makeup was okay, he appeared next to his car.

I gave him his things and asked for a hug. He said no.I asked him if he wanted my engagement ring back. He said yes.I gave it to him. He said that I have made his life a living hell for the past year, and that he's been nothing but stressed out. He said that he never wants to see or hear from me again.

And I said that I didn't cheat on him, that I was sorry that I hurt him, but that he hurt me to. At that point, he looked away. And that I loved him, and missed him. Finally, I said that no matter what, no matter when, I would be here for him, no matter what he's done.

His response: "good luck with the teaching thing."

You can take this at face value, but he wasn't the same. Everything was different. His eyes were very glassy, and he was a lot more aggressive than I've ever seen him. I thought he was high on pot or drunk. I was close to him though. I smelt no pot or alcohol on his breath. I suspect he's doing other, harder drugs-- coke, meth, or heroin. His mom sells coke; I have no doubt he has access to a ready supply. His sister confirms this.

I got back in my car, and even though I was ready to cry and puke from the stress of it all, I drove away. I wanted to look strong. I just drove into the next shopping plaza, got out, puked and had Deb drive home.

Deb said he sounded like her 11 year old son after she punishes him and he tells her that he hates her and that she is the worst mommy ever. And that if he really was over it, as he claims, that he wouldn't want to emotionally hurt me every chance he got.

So...

I can't fix him. I can't save him from whatever demons are tormenting him, be it depression, drugs, whatever. I didn't even bother arguing with him about me treating him liike crap. There's no point. That's obviously what he's convinced himself (or his mom has convinced him to think--I wouldn't doubt that), and there is no changing it. It hurts that he doesn't remember everything I've done for him. Apparently, it wasn't good enough.

How do I feel now? Upset, but strangely free. I love him, I still miss him, but this is the life he has chosen. I want him to be happy, and even though his happiness is artifically produced, that's the choice he has made.

Where do I go from here? Living my life, patching back the pieces of the broken heart he thrust at me last night. My friend Deb suggested that I continue the Dear Trevor letters, and work on turning it into a book. I think I'm going to. A year of letters to him starting from the initial breakup until now.

What do you all think?

Again, thank you to all my readers for being there through it all. I'm sorry that this story does not have a happy ending for him and I. But as a huge sign about my bed declares, "It's never too late to live happily ever after," and that's what I intend to do.

Finally some contact

2009-10-15T14:09:00.000-04:00

I'm meeting Trevor tonight at the mall so I can give him his stuff back.

He's still with Queen Bitch.

I need advice. What do I do?

2009-10-14T12:42:00.000-04:00

Money has always been an issue with Trevor and I. In the beginning, it wasn't. He had a good job, was going to work every day, and we were both paying our bills. Then, something changed. I don't know what it was- possibly his step-sister's suicide. He started having a hard time waking up in the morning; he started staying up all night; he went through job after job basically because he just couldn't get up out of bed every morning.

He lost Job #7, I think, on my birthday last year. I was teaching, making the majority of the money, and thus feeling the largest pressure to make sure that our rent, utilities, car insurance, and both our car payments were paid on time. My savings and checking accounts were swiftly approaching $0. My credit card debt was piling up. With winter coming, I knew that I couldn't pay for heating oil too. So I gave Trevor an ultimatium: he had a month to find a job, or I was going to ask him to leave. Not to leave me, but to go stay with his mother. I financially couldn't support him anymore.

A month came and went. Trevor would spend most of his time shooting the shit at the fire house or sleeping all day. To my knowledge, he didn't apply for one job. And one Saturday morning, when I had written out another 900 check to the oil man, I walked out to his car and cleaned it out of my things. And I went inside and tried to make him get up.

I'll admit I was frustrated. I was hurt. We got into a huge fight, and he left for his mothers. No one ever said the words "it's over", but I knew he was pissed. The next few weeks were troubling. I had basically no contact with him. When I did, I asked him if we were together, if he loved me, if I went on a date, if that would be cheating. His answer for all of these questions was : "I don't know." He had showed up at the mall with friends, and told his sister (who worked there at the time) that he was "trolling for girls." So, I drove up there with some of his clothes and deposited them on his mother's front porch. He called me as I was hitting the highway, wanting to know what this meant. I said that he obviously thought it was over. I went back there to talk about it, he spent that time holding me and kissing me. He was still mad, but he did love me. Yet, he didn't come home.

After a week or so of no contact, I went into work and Jay was sitting at my table. A friend's brother, we knew each other. I was intrigued by him, since he was much older than he had been when I knew him before his military service. I went out to the bar with them that night, and then on a date with him the next week. I still hadn't talked to Trevor.

Did I sleep with Jay that night? Yes, I did. Do I consider it cheating? I don't know. He had no answers for me when I had repeatedly asked if we were together. I felt that he was breaking up with me.

The next day I called Trevor to come get his stuff. He discovered a note Jay had left me on my board, figured out that I was sleeping with someone else, and left. He told everyone that I cheated on him. It broke my heart.

Jay, who had gone through a divorce, knew what I was going through and filled my head with the negatives that I had complained about and those that he heard from mutual friends. I began to villianize Trevor in my mind.

In early January, I realized that I had missed two periods. The one immediately after Trevor and the one with Jay. I called Trevor, and told him that I might be pregnant. His response was that he was in a relationship with someone and that he thought he loved her. I'd like to add here that she was only 15 (he was 20). Luckily, I wasn't pregnant. I continued to "see" Jarod. We were never in an official relationship, at Jay's request.

In the middle of February, I got an early morning phone call from Trevor who asked me if I had his trumpet. I told him that I did, and that I would bring it to work with me. He showed up during my lunch break, I met him outside, and it was like instant spark. I didn't want to let him leave, and he didn't want to let me go. He hugged me and asked for a kiss. I gave him a chaste one ( I was at work, after all), and he texted me later confessing that he wanted a bigger kiss than that. That he realized at that instant how much he missed and loved me. I started to see both Jay and Trevor-- both of them knew this was going on. Jay was jealous, but couldn't say much since it was at his request that we weren't official. Trevor was extremely jealous. I told Trevor that I couldn't leave Jay until I was sure that Trevor could take care of himself since that was the reason we broke up in the first place.

Things went sour between Jay and I in the middle of March ( I strongly believe because Dogface's husband had left), and Trevor and I started to talk about moving back in together. He started to look at jobs closer to me. Jay & I stopped talking, and Trevor knew that.

In early April, Trevor stayed over for a long weekend. I logged into his Myspace and read some emails between him and another girl. I got jealous, and confronted him about them when I got home that night. He flipped out, told me that I was jealous, and that it was over. I called several times, talked to him for a few times, and realized that he was upset. Trevor takes a long time to get over things. He's stubborn and has no coping skills whatsoever.

And that brings me to where I am now. Missing Trevor, realizing that maybe I should have give it a wholehearted chance....

I didn't cheat on him, even though he thinks I did.

2009-10-13T17:27:00.000-04:00

"I am 100% and then some done with Aurora, and am in an awesome relationship with my new girlfriend" - Trevor's email to his cousin the same night as Amber's emails to me.

I know that I said I would be strong and forget everything that is being said right now. I know that I shouldn't take what he's saying to heart because he's said he's been totally in love with other girls before (the one between the us dating), and obviously that didn't work out.

The sad thing is, I don't even know if I'm in denial. I don't know if I'm deluding myself. Shouldn't I have given up by now? Shouldn't I read all the evidence stacked against me, and just give up? Wave the white flag, admit that I fucked up, and lost him?

Am I crazy for holding on? Am I crazy for believing that since we've come back together before that it could happen again? Am I crazy for thinking that if he wasn't with someone else, I could convince him to forgive me, and show him exactly why he loved me?

Do I need a reality check here?

Clearing my head

2009-10-12T10:12:00.000-04:00

To Smart Ass Sara, Mr. O, & Classroom Confessions.

A response to your comments from the previous post--

Thank you for confirming that she had no right in hell to send me that. That was my first reaction to it, especially when I know that his family (at least his dad's side, I have no contacts on his mom's) cannot stand her. She showed up at a family function wearing a very low cut white tank top with a black bra. His sister, who lives in the town she's from, confirms that she's a bitch and a skank, and wants nothing to do with him. If she is so good for him... #1- his family would immediately embrace her the way they did with me. I don't forsee that happening. #2- he wouldn't be avoiding his family including his sister and his uncle.#3- His family wouldn't be royally pissed at him.

I'm not going to lie, I was extremely upset when I read these emails. In fact, I believed them for a while.. that Trevor really did hate me. That he really thought I was a slut. That he really thought that I was the worst girlfriend ever. I was incredibly emotional, and it honestly ruined half my birthday.

As I've stated before, I'm the type of person that needs to talk about things to many people. It's like I need to verbally work it out. So the more people I explained the situation to, the clearer it became.

1. He didn't send the emails, call to tell me this, or even tell me this in person. The last time I spoke to him, he hugged me. Obviously, he doesn't think I'm the spawn of Satan. In fact, I was on his top friends from quite some time-- until he got with her.

2. She seems like the controlling type. And Trevor will take that for a time. Since we had no issues/ contact up until they got together, I'm going to assume that she forced him to take me off of his myspace. He also uses the internet at her place-- he doesn't have it at home or at work. So he A) cannot read my emails in privacy, and B) since he hasn't responded to ANY of them, probably because he's not about to do that with her around.

3. Why is she so worried about me if her life is so great? She knows that A) we were engaged, B) we were together for three years, C) Trevor went back to me after his last rebound relationship failed, D) his family loves me, & D) they can't stand her. For the last one, his uncle's family is not the type to pussy foot around. If they don't like someone, they are going to say something. I'm sure he's gotten an earful about her, which is probably one of the reasons why he refuses to call his uncle & sister back.

&, darling, you have every right to be threatened. Rebound relationships never last, and you obviously don't have enough control over Trevor to make him say these things to me. 'Cause he never would. Even in the middle of our dirtiest fights, he would NEVER call me a slut, tell me that he hated me, tell me that I was a horrible girlfriend. In fact, the last day we were together he called me up BEGGING to come over for the weekend. He even stayed into Monday evening. Really, he was ready to get rid of me? That might be what he told you, princess, but he and I both know the truth.

4. From past experiences, I know full well that being in a relationship means nothing. Just because he's dating her does not mean he's moved on. And with Trevor, and with me, we look for diversions from our problems. We looked for someone else to love us. I was incredibly enthralled with Jay.... but I was still totally in love with Trevor. Trevor had a previous rebound relationship in between us getting together. And he told me afterwards that he felt instantaneous love for her until he realized that it was me he really wanted.

I'm a huge believer that people can will try to project their feelings onto other things and people. I've done it, and I know others have done it. I'm sincerely hoping that this will be a relationship that does not last.

So, here's what I'm going to do. I'm not going to give it a second thought. I'm going to consider the source of this. I am, however, going to live my life. I have grad school coming up. I'm not necessarily going to wait around for Trevor, because I do not want to waste my life. I am going to have faith that he will come home. I'm going to date, to live for me for a while. Where that takes me I do not know. But I'm not going to throw my love away for Trevor just because of the idle threats of a jealous slut.

To my blog readers-- thank you. Thank you for reading my thoughts, however repetitive they might be, and for helping me to make sense of them. Thank you for not making me think that I'm crazy for loving someone so deeply, so painfully even when that man is not with me.

Going to go by myself a copy of The Notebook because more than one person, including my dahling Twinsie, has commented that our relationship resembles the movie, right down to the class divide that separates us.

I'll be back later this evening to read some blogs, and update. I won a blog award, and have yet to announce it nor pass it on to anyone. Stay tuned for that!

Happy birthday to me.

2009-10-11T16:17:00.000-04:00

Today is my birthday. And at precisely midnight, I get this lovely message on my myspace:

seriously...
stop talking to trevor..he doesn't want to talk to you... and i really think it's disrespectful to be messaging someone else's boyfriend and calling them baby... if he was your boyfriend still and his ex was messaging him you'd be pissed i'm sure so you should have thought about how bad you wanted him before you fucked up... he doesn't deserve what you did to him... so leave him alone now. give his uncle his stuff and just move on with your life because from the second you read this message your life does NOT include trevor by any means, whether you want it to or not, i'm deciding this for you. i don't care if you just want to say hi or see how he's doing... his life does not concern you anymore so get over it and stop trying to talk to him... obviously if he doesn't say anything back he doesn't want to associate with you anymore and i'm pretty sure that he's made that clear to you... so let me make it crystal clear this time... leave my fucking boyfriend alone. end of story.

love,
amber

So, I wrote back:

1. NEVER, EVER email me again.

2. I am not giving Trevor's stuff back to ANYONE but Trevor since it includes things that belonged to his dad. It also includes his tax returns. That includes his mom, uncle, or sisters.

3. He doesn't deserve what I did to him? I loved him for three years. I supported him when no one else would. For a good portion of 2008, I paid for rent, his clothes, his car payments, his gas, his food, and whatever else he wanted. In November, when my bank account literally read $0, we fought about money.

4. Yes, I made mistakes this spring. I was seeing someone who literally brainwashed me. Dude is a Marine, and quite literally I was brainwashed by his mind games and manipulations. I got pregnant and then he forced me at gunpoint to have an abortion. In June, he convinced me to kill myself. Thank god that someone found me in time. Trevor was caught up in the crossfires of that. I wanted to be back with Trevor so badly, and was so ecstatic when we started seeing each other again. But I was being told to say and do things that I NEVER would have normally done. If Trevor knows me at all, he know that I would never hurt him intentionally.

It's taken 4 months of therapy and restraining orders to undo the damage of the marine. And through it all, I realized exactly how good I had it, and how much I really loved Trevor. So fucking sue me if I wanted to apologize and try to set things right

5. Since you don't know me, I'm going to make this CRYSTAL FUCKING CLEAR for you. I do not take orders from ANYONE. EVER. So, princess, I'm not going to listen to you.

5. I do however, want Trevor to be happy.

6. & thanks for ruining my birthday, bitch.

And got this in response,

if you want trevor to be happy then leave him alone.
you were his past and i'm his future and that's the way it is now.
if you don't like it get the fuck over it cuz it's not changing.
just stop trying to get back in his life cuz you don't have a place in it anymore.
i know what you guys once had must have been great but by the end of it he was so ready to get rid of you.
you are the one who pushed him out of your life by being a dumb slut.
so maybe you should have thought about how much of a good thing you had but it's too late now.
so i'm really not kidding, get over him. leave him alone. move on. he's not ever going to want to be with you again so get it into your dense little head.

oh and by the way happy birthday skank.

Thoughts:

1. Why on my birthday?

2. Why did it have to be her. Why couldn't he have called/messaged to say those things

3. Where the FUCK does she get off. Seriously, Smart Ass Sara, I'll front the bail money.

Trevor

2009-10-11T05:21:00.000-04:00

he hates me.

he's never coming back.

I never knew emotional pain could physically hurt you

I feel like my heart just got ripped out of my chest.

I want to throw up.

I want to never wake up.

I want to forget he ever existed

I want to forget who I used to be