family legacy

my grandmother is 81 years old. it’s not the longest run in history, but it’s a damn good one. it’s interesting to think that she was born in 1929. that was the year of the wall street crash, the beginning of the great depression, the st valentines day massacre, the opening of the san fransisco bay bridge. in the same year martin luther king jr was born as well as audrey hepburn and anne frank. (read more here: 1929)

i found out last wednesday night that my grandmother has cancer. she will not be a cancer survivor. this will be the final chapter for her. by the time they found the cancer it was beyond any treatment options. the best they can do now is give her pain meds (which she doesn’t like to take because they make her too groggy) and wait for the end.

i’m angry at the universe about this. i get that 81 is a good run, but this is NOT a fair way for this amazing woman to go. there is NOTHING fair about this. here’s why:

my grandma is where i get my rebellious streak. there’s pictures of her in college holding hands with boys. i know- doesn’t sound so scandalous until you realize she went to a college with separate mens and womens dorms. not very unheard of at the time. but then you look in the background of the pictures and you see signs about men and women not being allowed to fraternize together. pictures of her holding hands with a boy with a sign about no fraternizing in the background. there’s also a picture of her and several girlfriends standing on a wall directly over a sign that says “no sitting or standing on this wall.” she had a strong wild streak to her. granted, i’m basing this off two pictures, but they do say a pictures worth a thousand words. she was also very in love with her first husband and there may or may not have been less than 9 months between their marriage and the birth of their first son. unfortunately at that time it was not at all something that people could deal with like they pretended to do when it happened to me (minus the marriage part). it caused a rift in her family and she was (i believe) disowned due to it. if not actually disowned it caused a large rift that caused great pains later on.

my mum was born in 1955 when my grandmother was 25 or 26 (forgive me, i don’t know her exact birthday- we’ll stick with 26). a few months before my mum was born my grandmother’s husband was killed in a plane accident. i can’t even imagine. 26, baby on the way, suddenly alone. in 1955. additionally, my mum has 3 older brothers. at 26 my grandmother was a sudden single parent of 3 small boys and a baby on the way. can you even imagine? i made the choice to become a single parent at 23 leaving my marriage. granted, not a choice i really wanted to make at the time, but still it wasn’t like having my whole life ripped from me. it was damn hard with two little guys. i can’t even begin to imagine three small boys and a baby on the way. she had to scrape together a few thousand dollars to have his body railed (yes, by train) back to his family AND pay for burial costs. you’d think at a time like this her family would step in and help. remember that whole great pains? they wouldn’t help. his family stepped in to help, but still. she was on her own. talk about a hard knock. she did it though.

in 1958 she married again and had two more kids. six total. that alone deserves sainthood.

now. our family has pretty tight lips when it comes to history but over the years i’ve heard a few things consistently enough to know that there’s a strong truth to them. still, please understand that this is a generation removed and a that no one is willing to talk about what went on.

my grandmother’s second husband is a pretty horrible person in my opinion. he is the type of person that never had qualms about using brute force to get his way. my mum talked only a few times about growing up with him and it was never good. one thing she remembered was my grandmother in the bathroom giving birth while he was in the kitchen demanding dinner. she talks about how when they got in trouble as kids (which was a continual thing due to the type of person he was) he would grab whatever was handy to beat them- a hairbrush, a belt, a metal rod. my grandmother and the kids went through this- no one escaped. in addition to that demeanor, he was also very politically defiant. he has strong ties to branches of the aryan nations and different supremacy groups. it was not 6 degrees of separation to our family when things like ruby ridge happened. it was maybe 1 or 2. hell, the wingnut even started his own “church” and considers himself a minister. hand in hand with all that goes a distrust of modern medicine, resistance to “government tracking” (drivers licenses and birth certificates), stockpiling weapons and food for the end of the world- the batshit crazy just goes on and on. did you know that if you eat mushrooms and ham you’ll catch aids? and that if you snort enough cyan pepper you can cure cancer? (one snort and i would NEVER complain about another medical problem as long as i lived. kind of like the egyptian answer to headaches). he is, to the core, in every way possible, a terrible person. even now, as my grandma is immobilized by cancer he’s demanding that she just needs to get up and walk more and she’ll be better. he gets angry with her for struggling through the pain and being confused or groggy. he talked yesterday about the “good old days” and how when they would argue she would simply say “you’re the head of the household” and that would be the end of the discussion. does anyone else catch the undertone to a discussion like that?

my mum did her best to keep my brother and i away from that whole mess growing up, one thing i am extremely grateful to her for. we rarely visited my grandmothers ranch and we NEVER spent time alone there.

53 years. my grandmother has endured 53 years of abuse after losing the love of her life, having her family shun her and being left on her own in 1955 with three kids and one on the way. she stuck with it because it’s what her generation does. you stay. there is no other option.

and she still maintained the beautiful person that she is. hidden in there peeking out when the coast is clear is that rebel. the amazing woman that gave me my love of vintage books. the first person in our family to go to college. the young lady in the picture standing on the forbidden wall. the woman that i look up to for what she went through and continues to go through. she raised six kids. SIX. she ran the ranch for over 20 years with “small” gardens that would put most gardens to shame (ACRES of gardens). she provided food for countless families that passed through and stayed on the land at different times. she made (and hand tied) quilts for all 9 of us grandkids. every year since my kids started school she helped make sure all their supplies were provided. visiting her over the last week i’ve still seen an amazing sense of humor, beautiful intelligence, unimaginable strength and patience. it breaks my heart to think of how much i missed out on growing up because of what she was stuck enduring.

and i’m angry at the universe because she never got a break. a few years ago her husband was very sick and it didn’t look like he was going to last very long. i was so excited for her thinking that finally she would be away from his tyranny. she would be able to get a nice little place in town and live a few years of her life in peace. a few years away from the constant abuse. a few years with her kids who had all distanced themselves as adults. a few years with grandkids, great grandkids that had been kept at a distance. instead he’s pulled through and is in fine health (aside from dementia) and she’s in the worst possible pain, completely overtaken with cancer and no chance of pulling through. no chance of peace. no chance to have the life she deserved. no chance to be the beautiful independent, free spirited woman she once was. i’m so angry. i’m so filled with hate and rage to see the scales once again not balance out. i don’t understand how the universe works. i don’t understand why things like this happen.

i’m also terrified.

my grandmother has lived with 53 years of abuse. my mother grew up in that household. i have to acknowledge that experience and how it shaped her adult life and approach to relationships. i have no question that her marriage to my dad was unhealthy. i love my father with everything i am, but i am not blind to his faults. i know that he had affairs. i know that he was young and didn’t treat my mother the best he could have. i know they were both young and both came from hard upbringings and didn’t have the healthiest examples of how to be a young married couple. i honestly believe that my mother would have stuck with him forever if he hadn’t come home and announced he was in marriage counseling. with the other woman. if he hadn’t left, my mother never would have. she would have stuck in an unhealthy relationship because it’s what you do. how do i know this? because she’s doing it now. she’s married again to a horrible man. a man that has lied to her, mistreated her, hidden things from her, abused her kids. she is in an abusive relationship now and she is sticking with it because that’s what you do. my grandmother married a second time because she needed help raising four young children. my mother married a second time because she needed help raising two young children. both stuck out abusive marriages because it’s what you do.

i’m TERRIFIED. i’m TERRIFIED to be a third generation of this. and i KNOW i’ve already broken the mold. i was in an abusive marriage and I GOT OUT. but the fact remains that i was in an abusive marriage. i followed their steps. i did it. i married an abuser. a third generation. i did get out, but i’m TERRIFIED that i don’t know any better. i don’t know what a healthy relationship is. i don’t know how people are supposed to work together. i don’t know what the good things are to look for and it’s damn hard shopping when you’re only going off the avoid list.

on the other end i’m terrified of avoiding relationships and not trying to find someone to try to give my kids a healthy example to look up to. no example is just as damaging as a bad example. they need something good and healthy and strong to learn from and aspire to. but i don’t know how to give that to them. i only know that i want to protect them from an unhealthy one. i don’t want to fuck up a fourth generation. i don’t want my kids to look back 15 years from now and be in the same boat facing the same fears and the same bad experiences. how do you fix things like this? how do you unlearn what you grew up with? how do you change the family legacy? i don’t want to be the third generation single mother who marries for help and stays no matter what.

and so what do you do? you’re terrified to get stuck in a bad one and terrified to not have one at all. i want to break the cycle. i want to be the generation that does it right. i want to be the generation that is healthy and happy and successful in a partnership. i just have no fucking clue where to start.

the battle rages

ok. so i realize it’s been a while and a few blog promise fails. it’s been a hell of a few weeks. i know that’s probably the time i should write the MOST, but it’s also the time i usually find myself the mos tongue tied when it comes to writing.

i’ve been having a hard time.

there. that’s on the table. there’s been depression, hard parenting, family emergencies, and a torrent of memories and grief hitting lately. i’m not sure what’s going on- maybe the moon is in a strange orbit. it was a little close to the earth for comfort recently.

a few weeks ago i went out for an evening and had just enough to drink that it seemed like a good idea to watch the dvd from my dad’s memorial service. alcohol is the devil. let me just say that. (it is however being my friend tonight and relaxing me enough to get this started.)

i watched the dvd. all the way through. it wasn’t actually a recording of the service like i thought it was but instead it was a compilation of pictures from the service. pictures of the motorcade, the speeches, the presentations, the bagpipes, all of it. ALSO: pictures from the scene. the parts of the service were hard but i made it through them. the pictures of the scene were unexpected and startling. it’s one thing to see the destruction from the ground, to walk the space where the house was, to sift through the remains. it’s a while different ball game to see the aerial pictures of the scene. to see the complete and total destruction all at once. on the ground you can take it one piece at a time. you can deal with what’s right in front of you and save the rest for when you’re ready. when you see the aerial picture it’s all at once. the whole ball of wax. it was intense to see. it looked like a perfect circle of fire had hit the earth where their house once stood. i still don’t understand the forensics of the fire. i still don’t understand how it decided to destroy some things and leave things a few feet away completely untouched. apparently i’m not the only one. there is no official ruling on the fire and there never will be. the official word is “unknown causes” signed, sealed and delivered by the ATF, the local fire department, all agencies involved. the best of the best review this one and no one knows what happened.

i’m getting distracted and writing myself into a corner. when you find yourself sitting and staring at the screen for 20 minutes you need to switch directions. so. prepare for a switch:

my oldest son has decided to be a teenager. i knew it was coming, i just hoped we had prepared a little better for it. it’s not quite a train wreck yet, but the potential is there. my boys fight. that’s partly what brothers do. BUT, its different when one of them can’t stop of know where the line is for behaviour and interaction. the little spawn is working on learning how to control his body and his interactions but to a certain extent he’ll never be able to really master the skill due to his aspergers. he’s working hard, he’s already come a long way, but part of it will never happen. his brother doesn’t seem to get this. they constantly fight and pick on each other and of course, EVERY. DAMN. TIME. the little one keeps pushing it further and further and the big spawn has to be the winner and it ends up in disaster. several times a day, EVERY. DAY. there’s punching and hitting and name calling. i’ve tried everything to make them stop. they’ve lost privileges, they’ve spent a LONG time hugging it out, i’ve told them to stay away from each other. nothing works. in my mind it’s mostly the oldest spawns responsibility to walk away because #1 he’s older, and #2 he doesn’t have the problem of knowing when to stop like the little one does. he’s just too stubborn and mean to let things end. well, it’s been getting worse and worse. i warned the oldest spawn to just let things drop or he would lose his gameboy, his comics, and his art supplies in that order. the other night the oldest spawn was being horrible all night. snippy comments all through dinner, picking on his brother all night despite several warnings, it just wouldn’t end. finally we stopped to drop a friend off and in the two seconds between me getting out of the car and turning to look through the windshield the oldest spawn had punched the little spawn in the face. full on punched, right in his face. i about popped a cork. when i got back in the car i tried my best to keep my temper under control and told the oldest spawn he was grounded from his gameboy, my iphone and the laptop for a month. he started yelling at me telling me how unfair i am, standard teenager drama and i warned him twice to stop. he wouldn’t quit, so i told him one series of comic books now belonged to me. ONE SERIES. not all of them. not his whole collection, just one series. holy shit you’d think the world hand ended. the yelling turned to sobbing and freaking out- pulling his hair, thrashing all over the back seat, just going off on me. i managed to maintain my temper and let everything he was yelling at me just roll off. he pulled the standard “I HATE YOU”, “THIS IS SO UNFAIR” and even branched out into “THIS IS SOMETHING GRANDMA WOULD DO” and i just let it all roll off. it continued for a good hour after we got home. he just wouldn’t quit. he finally went to bed and things quieted down. a few days later i brought it up again that he needed to turn over one of his sets of comics and the world ended again. this time he started throwing things around his room, punching his walls, throwing himself on the floor. if i didn’t know better i would swear he was 2 instead of 12. i don’t know how to deal with those melt downs. OVER COMIC BOOKS. i get that they’re special. i get that he saved his allowance/babysitting money to pay for part of them. i also get that maybe something that’s so special to him will finally get his attention and get the point across about being better to his brother. but there’s also the risk that he’s getting so upset about things that the anger is building into something worse and he’s missing the whole point. i don’t know. i made him stick to it over spring break- he was allowed to take the portable dvd player for the road trip to his dad’s, but the gameboy stayed home with me. i have no idea about computers or anything while he’s there, but here’s hoping that he sticks to it. snowball in hell, i know. but i don’t know what to do. the way he freaked out was so unlike him. to see him in a complete melt down phase pulling his own hair, punching walls, throwing things- i had no idea what to do besides keep my own temper in check and ride it out (if you’ve ever seen my temper you know what i feat in itself that is). if he gets much bigger though then it could get dangerous. where do we go from here? he HAS to learn to be better to his brother. he HAS to learn to control his anger better. i just don’t know how to get from here to there.

switching tracks again- i have a bit of a rabbit trail brain today, forgive me.

there will be a different blog on this, but here’s a quick overview just to catch you up: i found out last week that my grandmother is sick. they found out that she has cancer and doesn’t have much longer. no one is sure how long she’s had cancer, she’s pretty stubborn about doctors and letting people know when things are wrong. by the time they found the cancer it was in her bones, her blood, it has metastasized through her whole body and she has uncontrolled tumor growth. there’s a whole blog coming about her and how this has made me step back and look at things. so. be prepared for that. suffice to say it wasn’t the best news. on top of the dvd and the pre-teen melt down, i haven’t been dealing with it very well.

switch again- i feel like there’s just been this storm of everything going on and i just feel like it’s hitting hard. and here’s the part where i pull a total melt down.

my kids are gone this week for spring break. i was looking forward to a week of fun and going out and being completely responsibility free. it’s turned into a disaster. the kids left on monday and i finally left the house tuesday mid morning and that was only to drive to colville to see my grandmother. so much for a rowdy good time. yesterday would have also been my dad’s 56 birthday. that hit a thousand times harder than i expected it to. on the way back from colville i decided to go out for a steak dinner and a beer in honor of my dad. if you know me, you know that i get some of the strangest ideas. well, yesterday i had an idea that i would be good to call up the state patrol office in spokane and see if there was an off duty officer that would like to join me for a steak and a beer in memory of my dad. something about sharing that with an officer that seemed like it would be therapeutic or healing or something. talked to dispatch and then the sargent on duty and there were no officers available. also: the sargent threw in some good old sympathy which ended up with me driving down 395 in tears. so last night i took myself out to dinner and drinks in memory of my dad.

**side note: turns out my call to the wsp yesterday rang some alarm bells and i was gifted a call from the district chaplain today to check in on me. awe.some. didn’t know inviting someone out to dinner was such a reason for alarm.**

and pity party, table for one please:

i seem to be doing a LOT of things by myself lately. going out alone, being the lonely (and pathetic) girl at the bar. being the table for one in the corner. especially with everything going on lately that loneliness has been increasingly amplified. it would be nice to have someone to talk to. a sounding board. a check point in this mess. i feel like i could hold on a little better if i had some point of reference, but instead it’s just me out here floundering. tonight i went out again. went to a movie and to dinner. alone. and i know there’s a power to being able to do that. a strength to being able to get off my couch and actually do it. but there’s also a huge embarrassment to it. and i know people don’t know you need help unless you ask for it, but i’m TERRIFIED to ask for help. i tried to reach out to a friend last week. i tried telling him how scared this whole thing with my grandma makes me. how it makes me look at my family and worry about fucking my kids up. i opened up, i reached out. what i got back in return was this: “well, your kids are already fucked up.” supposedly a joke, but. yeah. kinda makes you not want to reach out any more. and i know, i just reached out to the wrong person. but when that’s the only person close by it’s hard NOT to reach out to the wrong one.

side track again:

so here i am. sitting on my couch where my ass has been glued for the week. the kids come home tomorrow and the rowdy week of freedom will be over. i don’t know if there’s a point to all this. maybe it’s just me venting it all. this is titled brain vomit after all. prime example tonight. i’m out of steam whatever it is. stayed tuned for a peek into my family history.

shirt off my back

it's the middle of the night on a thursday and i'm bored. so. here's a few tee shirts i would buy. i'm horrible at photo shop and all that crap, but you get the idea. if someone can make this happen i will worship you forever.

not the happiest place on earth

when i was a kid we took a family vacation to california for spring break one year. after driving down in the family oldsmobile, staying in the cheapest, shittiest motels all the way there, visiting every stupid marine corps site of former glory that my mothers husband felt the need to drag us to, one terrifying day south of the border in tijuana where i was SURE we were going to be stabbed to death, we finally got to visit disneyland- my first time EVER. the ONE good thing about the trip. i was so excited to have one good thing happen that i was almost able to ignore my horrible early 90’s home made shorts, badly damaged permed frizzball hair and blue plastic framed glasses. almost. we show up, i’m all excited, then we found out that every. single. section. was closed for repairs. apparently, the big spring break rush had been a week or so before and this was their chance to close things down for repairs and maintenance. what a fucking waste of time. i remember nothing about the park. i think we walked around for a while. i KNOW we didn’t go to any of the shops or places (my mum was way too cheap for that). i just have a picture of us all standing at the front gate and that’s it.

so. you know. i get disappointment. i get showing up to the park to find out the main attraction isn’t available.

that said: GUYS: YOU ARE FUCKING IDIOTS.

tuesday night the new guy and i were supposed to go out. he ended up not being able to make it (see the previous blog about how i just don’t understand all his responsibilities...this was another instance of that). he said he felt bad and would make it up to me the next night. well, the whole day goes by and i haven’t heard from him, so i texted him early in the evening to see what the plan was. he said to let him know when the spawns went to bed. works for me. so after the spawns are both down for the count i pop him a text to let him know the coast is clear, and, by the way, mother nature stopped by for a visit but it would be great to hang out and watch a movie. yeah. i spent the night on the couch reading. alone.

NOW. i get that mother nature is a huge freak out thing for many guys. (it’s not exactly the happiest event for us either guys.) YES. I’M TALKING ABOUT MY MENSTRUAL CYCLE. uncomfortable yet? set down the offerings of caffeine and midol and back away slowly.

one friend even asked me what the hell i was thinking telling the new guy about it outright. here’s what i was thinking: I KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO SHOW UP AND FIND OUT ALL THE RIDES ARE CLOSED. i’ve had guys get PISSED that they found out after the fact that the main attraction wasn’t available. i would rather be up front and say hey, the rides are closed, but you can still come hang out, see the sights, and who knows, maybe the management will open up a ride that’s generally not open to the public. you never know when an unexpected bonus like that might become available. that’s much better than showing up all excited to have your hopes and dreams dashed once you’ve already paid the fee to get in and spend the time disappointed and not able to even check about other options.

note to guys: just because aunt flo is in town does not mean that sexy time completely goes on hiatus. there are PLENTY of other things to do where you can avoid that whole section of the park (or not, depending on your opinion of things). second note to guys: YES, pms means that hormones are all over the charts. guess what? HORNY IS CONTROLLED BY HORMONES. and when hormones are boosted off the charts by pms...well...if you can’t figure out how that all works then maybe you should be allowed into the park anyway.

i’m not a bashful person (most of the time anyway). i have no problem being up front and honest about things. i am NOT the type to try to trick people or test them, ESPECIALLY when it comes to things like this. i’ve learned the hard way by accident and would rather not repeat the experience. i guess if a guy can’t handle me being up front and honest for one, and two: decides he would rather blow me off (read: no response at all) than roll the dice whether it really means a night of just hanging out or it ends up being a bonus night where the management is feeling generous, then you know what? i really could care less if he ever gets to visit the park again.

i’m going to go consume copious amounts of caffeine and midol now. call me when men learn how to grow a pair.

have patience...

ok kids. this is going to be a moment of truth: i’m in the process of learning about myself. it’s going to be confusing, it’s going to be awkward, and, as per usual, you get to come along for the ride. funny thing is that i don’t even know where to start on this one. there’s an old saying: if you hear something once, you can dismiss it. if you hear it twice you should consider it. if you hear it a third time, it must be true. well, i’m one step away from an ugly truth.

i’m not sure what i’m being told is the truth, but i know that the core issue behind it is a truth. let’s start at the beginning shall we?

the new boy and i had a fight a few weeks ago. yes, already. it got ugly. hell, it got fucking nasty. we were both angry and mean. at times i was flat out vicious. he accused me of not understanding that he had responsibilities and i was angry at him for accusing me of not understanding responsibility. how could someone say that _I_ don’t understand responsibility? are you fucking kidding me? that’s all my life has been for the last 13 year. it’s why i went to college. it’s why i stayed at the same job for 10 years. it’s why i rarely go out and never get drunk with friends or date just any random guy. i have a responsibility to provide a safe, stable home for my kids. DON’T FUCKING TELL ME I DON’T UNDERSTAND RESPONSIBILITY. yes, NOW, the last MONTH, ONE MONTH, i have less responsibility: i don’t have a 9-5. i don’t have to answer to anyone right now. but i’m still responsible. i still get up and take the spawns to school every morning (and go back and get them when i realize it’s a weekend). i still pick them up every evening and make sure they have everything the need (and more than a few things that are just wants). i’m still doing what’s best for them. i’m still making sure they’re provided for and taken care of. i’m taking great care to plan things out, make sure i’m making the best decisions for us. I AM STILL RESPONSIBLE..

then, again today, a second person told me i don’t get responsibilities. that i have to remember that when you have responsibilities it affects your schedule. to be fair, this wasn’t a separate incident. i was discussing the argument above to a friend and basically he was agreeing with the new guy. so. that’s two. TWO people telling me i don’t get responsibility.

obviously my knee jerk reaction is anger...you may have picked up on a bit of that. i want to scream out “IT’S NOT TRUE” and i want to prove everyone wrong.

BUT.

it is true.

well, it is and it isn’t. i get responsibility. i am a responsible person and parent. THAT part is wrong. the core issue behind it isn’t though. when you trace these statements back and figure out where they started they have a common theme: patience.

i am not a patient person. i’ve known this my whole life. it has never been one of my virtues. ask anyone that knows me if i’m a patient person and they’ll just laugh. now i’m not TERRIBLE. i’m not one to storm the receptionist desk if the doctor is running behind. i’m not one to leave people at home or when we’re out or anywhere because they’re not ready when i am. i’m not the person drumming my fingers during a card game because the other turns are taking too long. i’m not a toe tapper of a huffer or a pacer. i can entertain myself to pass time. i can wait patiently in traffic (most days) without yelling at the other drivers. i understand that things happen, schedules change, and 95% of the time i’m able to roll with the punches and not be concerned at all.

BUT. when it comes to things like buying furniture, I WANT IT TODAY. i don’t want to have to wait for it to be ordered and shipped from white plains, wisconsin. i want to put it in my car and take it home. NOW. when it comes to ordering things online i want it TOMORROW. i’m the person checking the fed ex “track your package” three times a day like it will make things move along faster. if i see a problem or know of someone having trouble i want to fix it NOW. part of this comes from my dad. he was the type to just solve things. whatever it took, it needed to be better NOW. throw money at it, do something, make it happen. NOW. solve it. make it go away. i suppose you could describe me as impulsive or impetuous. i always take time to think things through but when the decision is made IT’S GO TIME. once i’ve set my mind to something the response needs to be immediate.

SOME TIMES this is a good thing. i’m willing to jump right in and get my hands dirty. i’m willing to come up with a solution. i’m want to DO SOMETHING instead of just sitting around with my thumb up my ass.

sometimes, this is NOT a good thing. take for example the problem at hand: understanding responsibility or not. it actually tracks back to my problem with patience. in this situation, the boy and i were arguing about how long it had been since we were able to see each other. between work, kiddo, family, life, it’s hard for him to fit in time to get together. he is a dedicated father which is a GREAT THING. when he has his son, nothing gets in the way of that. it is something i greatly admire about him. however, it limits his time to be able to go out. i get it. i’ve done 13 years of this. i know that when it was me, i tried really hard to make time for things that were important to me. BUT there have been PLENTY of times over the years though that plans got cancelled or changed. it happens. here’s another one of my flaws: when it’s me i expect everyone to just go along with it. when it’s someone else, i tend to be...well...impatient and less forgiving. i want to think they should just *poof* make time. they should just make it happen. not be tired, not have obligations. i forget how hard it can be and how sometimes you just can’t. it’s the nature of it all.

if you’ve ever watched the movie “always” with richard dryfus and john goodman there’s one of my favorite quotes to describe relationships:

pete: “love. ain’t what it used to be.”

al: “theres only ever been two kinds. there’s flash fires that are all flame and burn out quickly leaving nothing. then there’s the long burn. that’s nature’s burn. even when you think it’s out the forest floor is still warm to the touch.”

i’ve always been a flash burn girl. hot, intense, burns out quickly and there really is nothing left. no friendships, no continued contact, NOTHING. it goes fast- talking constantly, texting, “hooking up” (yes, i just used that phrase), and then just as quick: BAM. done.

that lack of patience thing right there...

i want to see the new guy any time i can. i want to hear from him. i want to be around him. i want it NOW. i don’t want to wait a week to see him again. and i get frustrated when i don’t get my way. and it comes out in me picking a fight. pushing for more time. “not understanding responsibility.” no, i understand it, it just doesn’t fit into my little time table and it needs to be MY way. yes, i realize what a selfish, immature bitch i sound like in this moment.

well, it seems that the whole flash burn thing isn’t exactly the best way to have a lasting relationship. who knew? and here i am suddenly, with a long burn guy. he’s taking time, not in a hurry, willing to put up with me and my lack of patience and my temper tantrums (so far) and take some time with this thing. how do you go from being a flash burn girl to a long burn girl? i honestly don’t know. i try to think about it and get an instant migraine. i panic. i freak the fuck out. a few days go by and i think he’s lost interest and moved on. he cancels a evening and i think it’s because he’s found someone else. i’m REALLY terrible at this. flash burns i can handle. i know how to do short term. i know how to break things and push people away so that i know what went wrong and why it ended when the timer dings so i’m not left with a bag of questions. yes, i just admitted that. sabotage is MUCH preferred over the mysterious unknown.

so. here i am. faced with the reality of what i need to become if i want a successful relationship but no idea how to get there.

I AM NOT PATIENT. i know that. what i don’t know is how to change it. i do know that, like all things, change takes time. well, how do you think that sits with someone who wants things better NOW? vicious circle. ugh. i have a migraine and i don’t know where i’m going with this.

where do i go with this? how do i start to fix it? how do you switch from a flash burn to a long burn? any suggestions? does anyone know if there’s going to be a blue light special on patience any time soon? turns out i could use a little stocking up on that...

airing my dirty laundry-

let me start by saying this: i do not now, nor have i ever owned my own business. BUT, i’ve been a customer at plenty. and as such, i think i have a pretty good grasp of the way a business should work: DON’T insult your customers. DO what you reasonably can to keep them happy. doesn’t seem that difficult. apparently it is. VERY difficult.

here's a little hatorade for you: HAINSWORTH LAUNDRY: YOU CAN KISS MY ASS. i hope your business goes bankrupt, i hope you all end up in a dark alley being some big mans new girlfriend, and i hope you die in some poetic quarter related accident. (yes, quarters, as in the damn things i've had to get at the grocery store for the last few years to do my laundry).

i live in an apartment. i get that this means there are some things i sacrifice over owning my own home. one of these is having my own washer/dryer. instead we have A (yes, one) coin op in the shared basement. not only is it coin op, we still have to pay for the electricity for using it- yes, there are plug in’s labeled 1, 2, 3 for the respective apartments to plug the machines into while using them. let’s just say, i’ve been here almost 2 years and have never seen it plugged into any other outlet than mine for unit one. you’re welcome neighbors. whatever.

well. not only do we have to pay $1 to wash, $1 to dry AND for the electricity, the machines only hold HALF a standard load of laundry. ALSO? i believe they rolled off the assembly line in approximately 1970. excellent. they’re old, they hardly hold any clothes, i get charged up the ass to use them, and, final straw: they don’t clean the clothes. as in- AT ALL. they come out just as dirty as they go in. i’ve been going back and forth between this piracy and giving up one day a weekend to hit a laundromat when i get fed up with dirty clothes that have just been washed. i’ve called the business that runs the machines SEVERAL times, emailed them, everything. i’ve gotten the following responses:

1) “well, that’s what you get when you live in an apartment.” i’m sorry...WHAT? because i live in an apartment i’m suddenly a second class citizen and deserve the shittiest, oldest HALF load machine? what sort of fucking sense does that make? as a business, you have GUARANTEED business from apartments. doesn’t it make sense to keep the machines nice, modern, and actually CLEANING CLOTHES? then i won’t run off to a laundromat, YOU make more money, I’M happy. WIN-WIN.

2) “there’s nothing wrong with those machines, you must be doing your laundry wrong.” REALLY? you want to try to make me look like a fucking idiot that can’t do my own laundry? let’s see, i’ve been doing my own laundry plus my kids for...oh...15 years? but i’ve somehow been doing it wrong this whole time? because i’m that much of a fucking idiot? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? i’m sorry. you just made a BIG mistake.

after battling with this company for close to a year, getting no response from them, getting no backing from the property manager, i decided it was time to take control of the issue: I BOUGHT MY OWN WASHER/DRYER. now YES, this is a shared washer/dryer space. i realize the other tenants will be using the machines as well (especially if they’re GOOD machines that clean and don't cost a thing). i’m ok with that. i have 5 months left here- not that long in the scheme of things. i even bought the special soap to use with the machine because i don’t expect my neighbors to have to pony up and pay more AND i want the machine to work well so i’ll cover that cost. i get that there is a risk that they might be damaged by someone else, but i’d rather risk that than deal with the bullshit that i’ve been dealing with up til now.

so. tomorrow i’m going to go downstairs, disconnect the coin op ones, shove them off to the side with a nasty note attached and make room for a nice, shiny new set that will actually work. FUCK YOU shitty business that won’t lift a damn finger to keep your customers happy. FUCK YOU property management that won’t back their own tenants to try to correct the situation. FUCK YES to finally getting a good washer/dryer and finally having clean clothes again!

the company/property manager might throw a fit, but what are they going to do? kick me out? won’t hurt my feelings any- leaving in august anyway (if not before...house hunting is a whole different blog). maybe next time they’ll actually listen to the people that use the machines. maybe they’ll realize that shelling out a little to replace a 35+ year old machine will actually help make them money in the long run. maybe they’ll stop pissing off people that won’t sit back and take it.

either way: I’M GETTING A NEW WASHER/DRYER! and yes, this is a big event for me. shut it. ooo...and it has a “steam” setting....fancy.

one month slackiversary

ok kids. here it is. MY ONE MONTH SLACKIVERSARY!

yes. it’s true. i have officially been sitting on my ass for a full month. and my couch has the dent to prove it.

i haven’t done much. obviously i haven’t been writing. at all. i spent a good portion of time watching ugly betty from the beginning. all four seasons. i am now approximately half the intelligence i was a month ago. seriously! that show was a train wreck. i had to keep watching even though i loathed myself for doing so. more than once the following thought passed through my mind: WANT. TO. PUNCH. TV. it’s a good thing i was lazy enough to never actually move from my couch to do said punching. i like my tv. the horrible show wasn’t it’s fault!

so. besides getting caught up on terrible tv on netflix, what else have i done?

have i started working out like i vowed? not so much. have i started writing the books i want to get out of my head? not even a word. have i been in the classrooms at school? well, actually, YES. a bit. teaching an “exploratory” on fridays at the oldest sons school for an hour each friday. teaching a class full of 9-12 year olds crochet. yes, i am that stupid. dear god i hate other people’s children. now wait, that’s not fair. MOST of the class is ok/tolerable. it’s those other few though- oh those other few. and i feel bad because i recognize them- the socially awkward girl stuck in braces/glasses that thinks the stranger she acts the more people will pay attention to her and therefore like her...NOT SO MUCH HONEY. the boy who likes the girl but thinks being mean to her is a better idea. the “i’m too smart even for the smart school” girl that i want to punch in the face. BUT, i tell myself it’s only a few weeks, they’re learning something new, i’m in his school even if he’s not in my class, AND HE LIKES that i’m teaching a class. so. as long as he likes having me on the school grounds i guess it’s all ok.

i HAVE been reading. not quite the full month of it like i planned (stupid ugly betty!), but i have been reading. if you haven’t heard of kate furnival, go look her up and read her books NOW. historicalish novels based in russia at the fall of the romanov era- REALLY well written. the books of the bizzare (there’s two of them now) are fun and interesting to read through quickly. all sorts of facts you never knew you needed to know. LOVE them. did you know when an octopus gets stressed they will eat their own tentacles? see? things you need to know! nikki sixx biography: AMAZING. slash’s biography? OBNOXIOUS. made me want to punch him in his stupid top hat. shit my dad says? hilarious and well written. i hope they serve beer in hell? PEE YOUR PANTS funny. and obnoxious. makes you want to junk punch and jump tucker max’s bones all at the same time. full of the stupidest things any boy could ever think to do, the worst ways to EVER treat women, the most offensive references to women, having sex with them, ways to describe them, and i’m peeing my pants through all of it. now i HAVE to watch the movie. i have a stack of 14 more books to read and more being delivered by barnes and noble any day now. basically: don’t expect me to do anything real any time soon.

oh. and there’s boys. of course there’s boys. you didn’t think i would completely let you down did you?

where to start? biggest train wreck first? or the creepiest? then there’s the two that i promised i would never speak of. so. this is me not speaking of them. now you’re curious...right? too bad. i keep my promises. oh. and then there’s the worst of all: a good one. *sigh*

ok. creepiest first: guy popped up on plenty of fish via email. seemed mostly normal. emailed back and forth a few times, then he popped up on instant messenger (the site has it’s own messenger). this is all in the time span of about 20 minutes. so we’re instant messaging, he’s kinda getting my jokes, isn’t at all what i would seriously consider, but at the same time isn’t completely obnoxious. yet. out of the blue he’s all: I’M COMING TO SEE YOU. started asking which bar i wanted to meet at for a drink. umm...wow. run away freight train anyone? even better? HE LIVES IN TRICITIES. it’s 9 at night, i’ve been talking to him for about 30 minutes, the weather is SHIT, and he decided he wants to drive up to spokane to have a drink. we went from zero to FREAK ALERT in about 30 seconds. no, it wasn’t flattering, it was creepy. i kept trying to think of way to put him off, the roads are bad, i have to get up early for car pool, no, i really didn’t want to go out for a drink. or food. OR ANYTHING. but this guy just wasn’t getting it. allegedly (my crystal ball is on the fritz, so i didn’t actually SEE anything to prove it was true) he got into his rig and started heading this way. then he realized (allegedly) how bad the roads actually were, turned around, and emailed that he wasn’t coming but wanted to meet on the weekend at a bar in davenport that his friend owns. now. do i know if he actually got in his truck and started driving? no. could have been a big show to try to impress me (ummm...FAIL). could have been a bathroom break. no idea. but suffice to say, i was RELIEVED. would i have actually met up with him if he had come to town? scary to say, but yes. i have this odd guilt thing about shit like that. if he had spent 2.5 hours driving here in shit weather, i would have at least met him for a drink. in a VERY public place. with several friends (and the police) on standby. luckily that was the last i heard of him save a few follow up emails that weren’t returned. oh, and there was this whole bit about how he expected me to dress up for him (still not sure what he meant by that), the whole racist/homophobe comments he kept dropping, and the creepy way he kept saying he couldn’t wait to get me in his hot tub. ew.

guy #2: oh my. T.R.A.I.N. W.R.E.C.K. younger kid: mistake #1. he’s a 25ish punk kid that is every kind of messed up you can imagine. first, let’s start with his profile: two of his pictures are of him smoking, neither shows him in a particularly good mood. or even a recent lingering good mood. then there’s his catchy “about me”: Well i like all kinds of things. videogames, camping, traveling anything really. I am going to SCC to get my AA and then after that im going to move on to Eastern to do something with history.

wow. all those details. so much information. “all kinds of things.” what more does a girl need to know? oh just wait...HE HAS A SON. normally not a big deal until you hear the story: he knocked up his parents cleaning gal: “...she said she couldn’t get pregnant. or at least she hadn’t since her last kid who is 9.”

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? a girl with multiple kids, the youngest is 9 and she hasn’t gotten knocked up again, so suddenly she “can’t” get prego and you fall for it? and you reproduced from that shockingly shallow gene pool? thank you for lowering the future iq of america even further.

now. here’s the rest of the gory details: he’s 26, lives at home with his parents because he DOESN’T WANT TO WORK (i mean, he’s in college. work AND college are just too hard you know). not only does his live at home with his parents, he happened to mention that he sleeps on a mattress on the floor because it’s just not worth paying money for a bed. ooo...think of all the lucky girls that get dragged back to that patch of floor. he’s thought it would be cool to tell me that he’s been on plenty of fish for a while now and has contacted EVERY. SINGLE. GIRL. on the site. he goes for the shotgun effect: if he emails ALL of them, then at least SOME of them are bound to respond. seriously? that’s your dating philosophy? aim for them all and go for the ones that actually respond? oh.my.god.

just when you think it can’t get any better: he tells me about growing up. he was out on his own at 14 renting an apartment with his manager from wendy’s. ok- that kinda sucks. kinda start to feel bad for him. don’t worry, didn’t last long. right after that he launches into how that started him moving around to all different cities all the time. pattern went like this: abandon current apartment, move to a new city, live in a homeless shelter for a few weeks, hit up all the local charities for help, get a job, get an apartment (furnished by said charities), get tired of said city, abandon apartment, repeat.

some would find this resourceful and creative and hippie erotic. i find it a pathetic way to live, sucking resources from people who will actually use them to set up a REAL life, and a creepy way of probably hiding from more things than i want to know about. like this little jewel: he’s an excellent store robber. never been caught. he has a great gut instinct that lets him know when shits going to hit the fan so he can get out early. excellent. he’s the best convenience store robber in all the land. how could a girl possibly feel any more lucky? oh, but she can.

as if the illegitimate merry maid in training wasn’t enough, or the bouncing from homeless shelter to homeless shelter, OR the prolific robbery career, there’s also his magical way with words. “hey punk, send me some shower pictures.” how can a girl possibly resist that? “you need to bring me a sandwich and a blow job.” what the fucking fuck makes you think i would even piss on you if you were on fire, let alone get you a sandwich and a blow job? “what are you up to? i should slap you.” umm...how is this even remotely a conversation starter? do girls find the offer of getting slapped attractive?

just for shits and giggles (and because i knew it would be good writing material), we went out for a drink (i told you i had to see it in person). the bar closed early but he didn’t want to go home (oh yeah, did i mention? he doesn’t have a car, you have to drive to his parents house and pick him up for such a blessed event). i’m not quite through being entertained by this train wreck, so we try to figure out something to do. he wants to go to the strip club because he TOTALLY knows how to play all the strippers- i mean they’re just dumb bitches and he’s totally figured out their game. *PAUSE* strike 902 asshole. you’re not fooling anyone. i know several of those girls and i would NEVER, EVER, EVER expose them intentionally to an ass wipe like you. you are fucked in the head if you think you know how to “trick” them into anything. on behalf of all the darling girls that i know that are 900 times more brave than i am for working at the clubs and putting up with the assholes like you, GO TO FUCKING HELL for even thinking that way about them. *UNPAUSE* nope, wait, *PAUSE AGAIN* i want to junk punch your defective baby maker so hard that your tonsils are replaced with your balls and then run you over with my car 47 and half times for the way you talk about them. assholes like you should be branded on the forehead so the bouncers will recognize you on site and never let you near my girls. EVER. *UNPAUSE*

i politely decline the strip club suggestion and decide instead to take him to the castle. now. if you don’t know, the castle is an “adult mega store.” read: costco of sex toys. i have this theory that you’ll learn all you need to know about a guy by the way he acts in an adult store. you’ll find out what he makes fun of, how comfortable he is with himself, and possibly get a preview of the inner freak. THIS GUY: classic. awkwardly making fun of the different games. showing disgust at several of the toys (most of which i already have at home in my toybox), trying to impress me with all his high school sexual antics (so, i was at this party and was really smashed and all the bedrooms were filled, so i fucked a girl on the couch in front of everyone. umm...EW). like there weren’t already enough strikes against him from the whole night, and all the things he was making fun of, he had the gall, the fucked up audacity, to make fun of pin up girls. there were several books sitting out- vintage bettie page, suicide girls, other pin up models and pictures and he was talking about how stupid they were and how they’re not sexy at all. they’re boring to look at. i’m sorry, WHAT? might not seem like a big thing in the overall count of him splendidly striking out, but you’re talking to a girl that’s about to get a pin up girl tattooed on her body. i think they are GORGEOUS. the vintage girls are the most beautiful example of the way women SHOULD be- curvy, confident, and damn sexy- they made those old neck to knee swim suits look hotter than any micro bikini i’ve ever seen. *le sigh* so. we have: making fun of sex toys that i own, making fun of one of the things i find stunningly sexy, AND bragging about possibly the most degrading sexcapade i’ve ever heard of. yup. i think i learned PLENTY from this trip. THAT will never get near me. EVER.

from the atomic cheesecake studios

all for you kids. well, partly because there’s nothing like seeing a good train wreck in person, but more because there’s nothing like being able to share that train wreck later with other people.

now. the other boy. um. well. let’s put it this way, my darling friend across the mountains has yet to miss a prediction about the men i meet. he NAILS IT every single time. knows exactly how the train wreck is going to happen, when, and where. he has yet to make i mistake or incorrectly predict the male flight patterns in and out of my life. his prediction on this one? i believe it went something like this: “he’s in it for the long haul.”

even typing that made me take an hour long break. not even kidding. wow. “long haul” what the eff is that?

i don’t even know what to make of that. i mean. long haul? strange thing is, i can kinda see it. and i think i’m kinda ready for it. especially after the last year- it would be nice to have some semblance of belonging again. and yes, i realize that’s not a reason to...whatever...long haul it with someone, but it’s something. it’s a start.

wow. mood swing much? i blame netflix. went from a comedy to a dramedy. totally changed the blog. sorry kids. shouldn’t write and watch at the same time. anytwaddle. it’s time to get back to my busy schedule of nothing. SOMEONE has to be a professional slacker and today that someone is ME. so. happy one month slackiversary!