Tuesday, March 27, 2018
Saturday, January 06, 2018
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Saturday, July 30, 2011
My birthday is next week. I'll officially be 49 and holding.
Bea and I are still struggling, but at least I'm getting a trip to Europe for my birthday. Last year, it was Vegas, which wasn't what I would have exactly chosen. Then seven months later, it was Vegas again for her birthday. I put my foot down and she listened. I chose the places and excursions. Of course, she thinks I should be grateful. I am, but you know what I mean. I'm not much for hand outs.
She has moved with her room mates virtually across the street from me. So far, it's been fine. She's been a carry out chef several times, which I have enjoyed. The difference between her living 2.5h or even 30 min away is that booty calls and sleep overs happen more for her interests than mine. I desperately need my sleep and sleeping with her doesn't provide me a restful night, plus I actually have a kid and a schedule and a life. Also, I'm pretty bored at her place. I am always busy here and am in control of the remote, computer, painting... I am quite happy as an introvert. She and her room mates like crime and blood and jail and yucky reality TV on the tube. It's no wonder people don't rise about life's circumstances when they immerse themselves in such.
Sorry if that was a judgment. Although some people squirm at the thought of presenting a judgment, I am of the opinion that having an opinion is fine. Stating that opinion is fine, too. Her room mates are nice enough people, but are lowlifes. Sorry, but they are. I just choose to surround myself with upstanding citizens. Judgment, again, too bad. It's not that I don't have a heart, it's just that I don't sell myself and my goals short. When you're motivated, people like that judge you, too. And so it goes.
In a strange turn of events a few months ago. P sent me a friend invitation on FB. Could have knocked me over. I didn't bite and emailed from a different account instead, saying I hope he and his family are doing well, plus that my SO wouldn't cotton to him as my FB friend. True, but I didn't want it either. I mentioned that for almost two years I've seen the stats where he's been checking my various blogs, so I know he's kept up with me. I was very glad to find a way to get that nugget of knowledge to him and he hasn't visited since. Alas, but my birthday is the same as his daughter's and that has been his trigger to visit in the past.
My son is almost 14 and going on three. I met with a school psychologist for him this summer and I really feel like I have the tools and confidence to make some headway with him and his school. Maybe they'll listen to me this time as I show them his Interim grades which kicked me in gear each quarter and made me research/practically do his projects and homework and/or bring issues up with teachers who allowed him to turn stuff in a month late and/or begin after school tutoring. I'm going to confess that I push for him to work and I wind up lending more structure than I should, but the kid will not start it for himself. Once started, he's much better, but I know nothing when the teachers fail to communicate with me. I have begun to wish that his ADD had an H thrown in there for fun so that people would actually see him misbehaving and he would receive the attention he needs.
I still have cat #5 and he should go back to the HSoc, but I still can't bear to have them and his errant urin.ation put to sleep. Hey, it's only been nine months he's been incubating here! He's made a lot of progress, but then there are set backs, which include repeatedly taking my beautiful Et.han Allen bedspread to the laundromat. Fucker.
The next month is quite big, in addition to the trip. I have a solo show and have been doing backflips for it. Of course, why else would I do a blog entry other than procrastination?
Monday, February 07, 2011
I very much enjoy you peeps on FB. If I know you, let me know. I haven't messed up once. Plus, I am a Mafia Wars freak and have close to 1500 friends, so you'll blend in nicely.
I had a chilly convo with my mother this weekend, her complaining that it'd been three weeks. I was rather subdued already, which was nice, b/c I wanted a bit of aloofness. I have this really bad habit of warming up and putting on a show. Can't keep the charm down, even when I should. At the end, she offered up a big pause and then said that if I needed something, to let her know. I really hate asking or groveling. I'm much better at being chatty and tap dancing. For the record, she did truly call to carry on about the new entertainment unit they got to go along with their new 55" TV, how wonderful it is, big it is, etc ad nauseum. If you'll recall, in December I went through similar with her new kitchen appliances. It depresses me the ease my parents have and the sacrifices I went through for it. Goodness knows, besides college and a rood, they didn't provide for me.
Money makes me want to vomit.
Similar is going on with Bea. She throws money at the world, then chides me for buying $100 worth of art supplies every few months. I feel like a second class citizen. I feel like I have earned her trust, but she still wallows. A while back, I mentioned here how she snooped on my computer and even forwarded them to herself. I long ago deleted the offending emails from Lyd and Richard, but Bea now quotes from them when the opportunity arises, hence she doesn't trust me enough to let down her guard. Suffice it to say that it was a very difficult weekend. It is equally difficult to admit that I love her, while the other side of my brain screams L.I.N.E. (I want a tattoo of a simple line) for love is not enough.
I first came up with that concept five years ago. Can't believe it's been so long that P's been out of my life. Well, not all the way out. About 1.5 years ago, he started visiting my art blog. Remembering my birthday set him off. Sometimes he'll visit a couple times in a month. Sometimes three or four will go by. He visited last August for my birthday, then I didn't hear from him. I was kinda relieved. Of course, today he visited. Then he saw my notice for my photography blog, and although it isn't long yet, he went through every page. Although I never intended it as such, there was bait: two photos so far were taken with him by my side. More will follow b/c I have it programmed way out. I guess this probably means he'll come back. Alas. I just don't want him to know that I know.
In the two or three days I didn't phone Bea over the weekend (we had screaming matches on fb email instead), I really missed our telephone routine and stuff. We have a great hang out factor. She wrote me that she wants a partner, not someone to hang out with. I told her that having a good hang out factor is a priority to me and of utmost importance. I would miss that. I cannot be friends with exes so as to preserve hanging out. P had a great hang out factor. We only fought about once a year, but the frustration he brought me has made me fight like a loud, gesticulating Italian.
Hanging out vs. L.I.N.E.
I'm all for compromise; I'm nearing (sigh) 50 and I know the world isn't perfect, have to accept that. She's so young that she still sees roses and white picket fences. She's going to need to compromise, b/c I'm about as compromised as I'm going to get.
I really enjoyed this video. Check it out. It is my world view set to cartoon.
Wednesday, February 02, 2011
I've only spoken to my mother once.
I have not spoken to my father again. His sister dared to declare yesterday in FB that she was meeting my father today regarding some of their mother's papers; she needed to sign some things. My sister asked what and my aunt tap danced out of it. I would love to stir up some trouble and get my sister in inquire about today so that I am not seen constantly as the greedy one.
I am back on my computer, but I am still without a printer. Have gone to Kinkos a couple times to print, but I'm realizing how much I have not needed a printer.
Bea and I are getting along much better and I am much happier.
My son and I had some rockiness and I took away his xbox for about three weeks. I waited for him to come up with his own solution and he decided that that last week he had to be polite to me. He was, so I realized that his attitude is a choice, not hunger or hormones. When he got the console back, I made it clear that I am on to him. Even better, he has come when I called, etc. since them. We've made pizza a a couple times and are crazy hooked on Chutes and Ladders. I like this version of him.
Besides touching up an old painting of my wonderful old cat, I have done no painting since Oct or Nov. Usually working outside, I really don't like working from photographs inside. To make up for it, I have been active in installing new exhibits and have begun a daily photography blog. Tomorrow, I am going to be a judge of HS kids portfolios for a society's scholarship prize. All of these are great resume-building things, so that's great, but I am losing painting confidence. Alas.
Redbox calls. Seen any good movies lately? I really like how Redbox sends the Tuesday email of new releases and you can easily reserve yours online, movies to pick up by the next night by 9pm. Great system, although it lacks my ever lovin' indies.
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
Thursday, December 16, 2010
My boyfriend of two years says that he will not ask me to marry him unless I take a lie detector test to pinpoint the truth about certain things that have gone on in our relationship. I have been faithful and honest to him throughout the time we have been dating, with the exception of getting caught in some white lies about things that occurred before we were together. He says that if I have lied about little things, then I could lie about big things, and he needs to know he can trust me. I've always been of the mind-set that what happened before you were with your partner is not really their business and doesn't affect the relationship. I refuse under any circumstances to take the test. I've made sacrifices and compromises to keep him happy, but his request is completely unreasonable, isn't it? Is it a sign of overall problems? What should I do?
—Am I Crazy?
Your boyfriend is onto something. Before committing to marriage, I think everyone should have their sphincter activity monitored in response to important questions. That way, you establish a baseline of trust. So surely your boyfriend would be willing to be hooked up to a lie detector and asked the following: "Are you a pathologically controlling sicko?" "Do you think of yourself as more of a boyfriend or parole officer?" "In your best judgment, would marriage to you be a living hell?" I'm going to assume that you got caught in some "white lies" because your boyfriend was prying about previous lovers and you knew from experience that if you gave him any names, you would be mercilessly grilled. You should have just told him, "This is none of your business." But as you've discovered, the longer you stay with a crazy, manipulative person, the more you lose touch with normal behavior and begin to doubt your own sanity. Your boyfriend has done you a great favor by insisting on the lie detector. This has revealed to you that the most important question to be asked is the one you put to yourself, which is "What did I ever see in this lunatic?"
Yesterday, I forgot to relate a rather morose detail from the weekend. She's been upset at my lack of sex, swearing my menopausal behaviors to actually mean I am cheating. This weekend, I decided to put my brain over my body and give instead of receiving. When she asked if she could touch me (I never let guys touch me when doing them, either, b/c then I begin to think about that and not them and become selfish), I told her no, that she was the focus. She got angry. I said I was starting my period and I just wasn't interested in me.
Then she said it.
"Let me see your tampon."
It's a classic line I will get to use in couple's therapy as I regain dignity. My therapist was aghast when I told her yesterday. There is some entertainment value, anyway.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
So, when she read my email folders at least a year ago as I stupidly left the computer on (hmmm, I should review the blog for the dates), there was more in them than I recalled. After I'd learned she read anything from Richard or Lyd, I deleted everything, so I had no concept of what she read.
That's where she and I differ. I learned this weekend that she has them ... and I don't. During her foray, she forwarded all the emails to herself. She claims to have *only* read them five or six times, but she seems to have them committed to memory.
I have readily admitted to my transgressions here and I honestly admit that all were not transgressions to me. However, I have been nothing but faithful to Bea, although I do understand how one could be driven to cheat now.
So she's read and re-read my emails, has gone through my computer's pictures, has routinely gone through my phone, and a vertical folder of old and personal cards, etc, but somehow I am the bigger scoundrel in this b/c I had a life before her. I keep reminding her to wait another 20 years and see what kind of stuff she winds up doing after broken marriages, engagements, plus dashed dreams of additional children and my own picket fence. Yeah, one tends to react to life when one fights with all of one's might not to just hide under a rock. My life didn't go the way I wanted, so I carved out another life. I have succeeded on my own.
Life. That's my concern. She has Richard's email address, so she has both his name and his recognizable work location. How much of his life is she willing to wreck over two incidents that do not affect her in the least? Over a person I have not spoke to in over a year and a half?
My therapist asked why I would be willing to go through couple's therapy with her. I replied that some ego is involved. I'm not a bad person. I am not how she paints me. My therapist and Bea as well wonder who she knows b/c it obviously isn't me. Well, I deserve some validation about that. I'm not the bad guy here and I don't deserve to be treated as such.
When I asked her to delete the emails, she said she only would after we take them to therapy. She wants a firing squad and I have no idea if she has or has not sent them on to other email accounts just to dodge her promise to delete them.
Things aren't good, but my back is against the wall here. I have to find a couple's therapist.
Tuesday, December 07, 2010
If you have a blog I should be reading, let me know. For every one I add, I'll take another off.
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
Therein lies the rub.
A number of this lunch club spit out babies at will or several had them by accident. One in particular (loathe is too nice a word) trapped her poor husband into procreating without appropriate notice for her last two...out of five. At an after-meeting with just her, another mom, and me, I once told her that I could hit her in the face after another one of her rubs. And I could have. She knew I suffered with infertility and yet took every chance she could to remind me of her fertility.
Sorry, but I tell few that I am atheist, however if you carry on about your religion to me repeatedly in a holier than thou fashion as if it is the only life choice, I will offer an alternative viewpoint. Strongly.
In either situation, I am strangely viewed as the bad guy, which is something I am trying to prevent this time. See, I was the poor single mom who did not have a hubby daddy to buy me a McMansion and a Lexus. Fine, I don't see any of that changing. What did change, though, in addition to many years of reading and crying with infertility blogs, was my art emphasis, my professionalism, and my esteem.
In fact, the only reason I learned these moms still get together was because the nicest among them saw my art at my gallery over Thanksgiving and took the time to look me up and email. Then she asked if I'd be interested in lunch, which of course should not be as earth-shaking as it feels.
Bea accuses me of too much self promotion, considering it akin to attention seeking, but I call it appropriate marketing b/c I am a small business. If I were to go to a lunch with them, I would have to let the babies, riches, new cars, and grand houses all fall to the side, b/c I would get to toot my own horn about something special I was born with and am taking the time to capitalize on. I would not care about their viewing my art or a sale and would never elaborate on the snicker-value of sexual orientation. I just would want them to know that I am in national shows, win awards, get juried in exhibits routinely, and have my own juried gallery position(s). (There may be another coming.)
The art part feels good. Revisiting infertility, or rather the massive fertility of others, does not. Which would you choose?
Monday, November 15, 2010
There's too much stress.
The kitchen drain. I can't pay for a better plumber than a kitty litter bucket. Someone (a lawyer) actually clicked "like" on fb when I put that lament. People really don't understand when your house is falling down around your head.
The horrible appliances. On Sunday, my mother called to brag about her new ones being delivered next week. She did a complete and beautiful remodel a few years ago when she bought this new place, so this has been in the works. Her call came only days after I commented to her that I am sick that my parents and grandparents all have had standards of living higher than mine. She replied that hers is higher b/c of her inheritance from her mother. And I am left to wonder why I got none. Why I am always deprived. Why I am left out. Why is my stove from 1979? I don't invite any of them up and they take it personally. Maybe I should flip that thought and invite them so they can see how hard we have it.
Bea thinks I think I deserve too much.
My life's watchword is deprived. I don't get what I want, even all along from the people who were supposed to care for me. It makes me more ambitious and it is held against me in different ways.
No flooring. Have largely been without carpet downstairs for six or seven years. Yes, concrete is just lovely. And warm. Fuck this county and their fucking flood they would not own up to causing.
Parents with all they want and no consideration for their children, except for peanut incentives. It's not so hard to think of my father that way, b/c he doesn't care, but it's hard to think of my mother throwing scraps my way in the form of airline tickets to visit her, which is darned self-serving.
Spending so much on going to the funeral. And it took so much from me physically - almost two dozen hours of driving. My father gave me $50 for gas and I told him it would cover about half; he seemed surprised at that somehow and I was bewildered at his surprise. Then the next day, he gave my sister $50 for gas, but hers cost less than $10, so it wasn't for gas and I wasn't special or actually being cared for. He spent about $100K on his back yard in the last year w/the outdoor room, garage, and workshop. He's living it up! He does not care about me, just that I show my face at his mother's funeral.
Spending so much on trying to display paintings. In the past few weeks, it's another $100 to make coverings for the display panel racks. And more frames, especially small ones for small works. Damn Michael's coupons and double coupons.
Peanuts. My needs are peanuts. Honestly.
Still needing to make panel covers.
Coordinating the holidays w/o success. My mother wants us down, but J goes to his father's at noon on Xmas, so it is limited. Bea flew into a rage when my mother called to ask us down. Bea never communicated what she wanted beforehand and I was noncommittal with my mother; last year, Bea went to my mother's and then left me in a huff the week after to go to the Bahamas for a week. I cannot depend on her. I do not trust her. Yet, I am supposed to keep her on the list of people to juggle and please.
She thinks she's supposed to come first and that's what normal couples do. I'm here to say that my marriage revolved around visiting his maternal grandparents, his mother, his father if we could find him, his other grandfather if we could fit him, my mother, my father, and my grandparents. And this was supposed to be a fun holiday or even a quick weekend! It was not fun for us. It was for them and they expected two visits each time we went to our hometown! It's how life is. At least they were all in the same town and gas was cheap.
I am not Christian, people. Xmas is not my holiday. I do not care anymore and my only expectation is to not have to be unexpectedly alone.
Trying to do what everyone else wants. I am lost in this. Today I had it thrown in my face that she'll ask about getting together and I'll say that I need to ck my schedule, that her living closer means we should see each other more. Heck, she can come to any drop off, pick up, or Opening she wants to! She's mad at me when she excludes herself!
It isn't out of meanness for me to check my calendar. It is out of consideration. It is what normal people do. Her schedule is not normal and mine is sparse, but I do, for example, need to deliver and pick up paintings according to others' schedules. This week, besides therapy and my son's school schedule, it is a relatively busy one in that I have a drop off on Tuesday evening, a pick up Thursday evening, and a combo on Saturday. All told, it's less than six hours max and completely reasonable. If at all possible weather-wise, I will paint out with a friend, so my official work hours total less than 10 for the week, because I can squeeze in painting fixes/finishing anytime and I don't need to begin framing again until next week. My stuff is flexible and, if it isn't, it doesn't take too long.
I am ambitious. I have been showing less than two years. I average 1-2 sales per month. That's pretty damn good. I sure would appreciate support instead of competition and jealousy about it.
Bea's current fb status.
“Those who do not hate their own selfishness and regard themselves as more important than the rest of the world are blind because the truth lies elsewhere”Apparently I am selfish and pompous and blind, b/c my mother wants us to come down two years in a row, b/c I paint out with a friend about twice a month on Thursdays, b/c I participate in art shows which actually influence little else and take little time, b/c b/c b/c. I honestly feel like the most unselfish person in the world. I cannot fathom if I had a 50h+commute job each week.
I wrote her a note and said her status must be about herself, b/c I am not selfish in the least.
Wanting happiness and thinking I'd be successful at it if alone, but sadness and frustration win over. I had a fb conversation with an old guy friend from hs. His sister and mother have died over the past few years. When his sister was ailing, one of her friends got her claws into my friend. He resisted for a very long time, but wound up being grateful for her caregiving. Now he's miserable and it's been something like four years; his mother's been gone a year. He's suffered significant losses, yet felt such responsibility to this stalkerish woman, whom he cannot please. Now he feels like he's had enough and I commented that the holidays make it tough. He said it would be January. I agreed, for me, although I probably said the same thing last year. In my case, when it's good, it's good, but I never know what's lurking. And then it's bad.
I always seem to manage on my own. Deprived and depraved, I muddle through. I am not stronger or happier. I am just surviving, but it's getting to me.
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
We always try to introduce cats slowly, leaving them alone in J's room for two days. By then, everybody can't wait to meet. Problem is, Malc was too slow to change gears and the others are now ignoring his repeated hisses, choosing to chase him back into his room instead. The others were very gracious and sweet in their efforts for over a week.
We got him b/c he was accustomed to living with and sharing a cage with other cats, but he's not a cat's cat.. He was also very affectionate with the HS staff. If I go to the top bunk, he is also affectionate with me. He purrs and flops around, but I've not pet him outside The Presidential Suite, although he has left it a few times for little bits.
I hope he comes around soon. It's been two weeks. At least this is better than Memph, who lived under my bed for 9 months. Bea suggested closing J's door and forcing Malc out, but I'd rather he be where he feels safe and I know his alternative would be under my bed. BTDT.
In short, Malc really likes his new, big, Presidential cage. I think he is happy. He's a sweet and well-behaved cat. Also J always wanted a cat to be *his* cat and I think Malc is vying for the title.