I've been trying for access to this blog for a long while. I finally stumbled upon the *right* help question at Google, as I'd been going in circles. My six year anniversary of blogging is coming up in a few weeks, but the real press this time was Bloglines shutting down in a few days and me reading thousands of blog entries recently.
Hello my people.
My Bloglines, which I had not checked in a few years, actually has 45 saved Chez Miscarriage posts, ending in 2005. What a treasure.
Life is going. From April until September, it was the hardest time I had ever had in my life. Ex tried to win custody of J, who just turned 13 this month and strangely in his pubescent haze suddenly has a say about custody - this after he purposefully ditch the sixth grade and had a frenzied and blamed mother as a result. I don't think ex expected me to fight, but I did. The first few months were on my own. I even submitted close to 400 pages of discovery. After that, Bea found me a lawyer who'd do it on the cheap. I worried about his thoroughness, although he did better after I politely jacked him up. Ex finally dropped the suit this month, supposedly, when J said he wanted to live with me. In my opinion, he actually dropped the suit after they contemplated the idea of me having a lawyer.
I think his goal was to no longer have to pay me.
Only a few in my life knew. Bea was helpful in some degree, although I always questioned why she couldn't just pay for me a real lawyer. This reduced rate guy ($2500 for all but discovery through trial) was actually more expensive than paying someone $300/hour or a $1500 retainer.
She has moved closer and is only about 30 minutes away as of this month. I'm still getting used to it, but parts are nice - quick dinner/movie, picking up or dropping off art in her area, etc.
I went to my hometown in August. My father, who is still cheap as ever and never offered me a cent in the lawsuit, scheduled a clean up date for my grandmother's house; she's in a nursing home and it's been sitting. All that was left was going to Good Will, so I picked up some little china pieces I wouldn't have otherwise gotten. It was the first time I'd seen my sister or father since my grandfather's death four years ago.
Overall, things went well, despite the personalities involved, mine included. What it reminded me of was a positive part of my upbringing. For example, it takes all I have not to correct Bea's Ghetto "English" in her speech and writing. Now I remember why. My father isn't wealthy or upper crust (they do very well now, though), but he has a being around him that I also have. It isn't a snottiness, but it is a sense of propriety that definitely comes through in my writing. He spoke of trying to get his community college students to speak Business English and I guess he's in an appropriate environment to make that demand. I am not. I couldn't get Bea to speak, write, or dress in a genteel fashion if I tried. And I have, just a little.
She took offense over a year ago when I asked her to not wear t-shirts with writing across her big boobs around me. I was trying to politely guide her into stepping up her wardrobe, but she then just wore plain t-shirts instead. In the last six months, she went back to dressing with writing across her large chest. At least that is usually spelled right. I wish she weren't incapable of dressing nicely, but that is merely a symptom.
Many in my life doubt her money and she sure doesn't pony up for me. However, she is so frugal, she doesn't pony up for herself either.
So, I as thinking in terms of looking for an outlet for educated and genteel folk so I can feed that side of me, because my ever loving therapist swears they're out there waiting for me for life and love. You'd think Art would do that for me, as I am very active in the Arts, but I do not have connections in the next level of Arts and most of what I do is with other artists, not collectors.
I am in that land between the wealthy/educated/genteel and the laid back/curse-filled/redneck, my feet in each camp, although the second camp is more likely to accept me. Of course, I accept both sides fully, I just have been reminded where I came from and it doesn't seem like that bad of a place. I would like to step myself up and join the first camp in my own right. And maybe I would feel comfortable going back to my roots. Not to offend anyone from any camp, but I realize I've been on a slide.
Aren't you lucky to have such a wordy piece of navel gazing as my first post in seven months? I hope I'm back.