There is no other way to describe it. I'm tired of logic and reason.
Things in this house go missing and it has nothing to do with anything but a simple rift in the time/space continuum. It is the opposite of Cardiff which gets things deposited. I get things taken away.
Hey, perhaps my stuff is in Cardiff! Perhaps the fact that I can only find two dish towels now and two spoons is because they are lying on the pavement in the Millennium Center.
When STBX was here, he blamed any missing object on myself or the kids. He could do a fifteen minute rant about how we always lost his stuff and then when he would find it right in the pile where he left it, there was never an acknowledgement or an apology. We were always wrong, he was always right and that was the nature of the universe.
But there was always another theory that he would propose when he couldn't find what he was looking for. His propositions were sometimes given with a lack of his usual "fuck you" sarcasm, presenting me with someone who was either a really good actor (#1 in deception!) or else a freakin' lunatic.
Did you know that when he would lose his stuff it was because someone broke into our house and took it? Of course, when I would lose something of mine it was because I lost it. But since he never screwed up he had to find another reason. I never could figure out what differentiated something that he thought I lost with something that he said was stolen.
We have VERY selective thieves in lakeside. They only take the possessions of one spouse and they always bypass the flat screen tv in favor of the pipe wrench.
I think that's been one of the biggest irritants when I deep clean this house. It is the constant sliver under my fingernail. I come across things that are so totally buried in his crap and I remember the accusations and the sheer assholery that I went through when he would be so intent on letting me know that I was a screw up.
This irritation can come out in rather inappropriate ways as I'll be digging through the garage and find something and I'll stand there, object in hand, cursing it a blue streak and letting it know that no, I'm not the idiot that lost it.
Which brings me back to the present. To reality.
Things go missing in our house.
We do not have thieves that are particular to dish towels and spoons.
I do not have a spouse that I can unload on and tell him that he JUST NEEDS TO LEAVE MY STUFF ALONE!
I choose to look at the situation realistically.
There is a stuff-sucking vortex in my house that is transporting my towels and spoons to Cardiff, Wales.
Makes perfect sense, doesn't it?
And let me tell you, it is SUCH a relief to get that paranoid wack job outta here!
He was so totally out of touch with reality.
Showing posts with label Torchwood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Torchwood. Show all posts
Saturday, October 03, 2009
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Shameless Consumerism
My copy of Children of Earth has arrived.
After watching it on my Ipod, I knew I needed a copy of it so I could lend it to my friends.
And then drive them crazy with discussing it.
It still breaks my heart.
After watching it on my Ipod, I knew I needed a copy of it so I could lend it to my friends.
And then drive them crazy with discussing it.
It still breaks my heart.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Other People's Children
OK, so I've just watched this season's Torchwood five night special "Children of Earth".
Twice.
I'm thinking that someone who is in my present state of mind probably shouldn't watch this.
Not to mention, twice.
Not to give out spoilers because you HAVE to see it, but the whole thing revolved around sacrificing children. Mostly, other people's children.
Unfortunately, I sat through it and thought about STBX's sister and her reaction to her brother's "indiscretions".
How she tried to tell me "At least this or that didn't happen..." when I talked to her.
I can only imagine what her reaction to that statement would have been had he molested her son. I can only imagine what her reaction would have been had she read the police statement that I read. Had she lived in my skin as I was forced to bear witness to what his sick and perverted self did.
But she just had to tell me that he REALLY DID love his kids. (Yeah, unfortunately, that kind of love is illegal in all 50 states.)
He USED his kids. Love has never entered into his personality.
That was the other part of Children of Earth that screwed me up. Using kids. Not sexually like STBX, but using kids for ones own selfish pleasure and stating "They don't feel anything. They aren't in any pain."
That's what pedophiles say. That's what co-dependant supporters of pedophiles say. They minimize it. They can't walk in someone else's shoes. They're willing to look the other way as long as it happens to someone else's children.
I wonder if there will ever be a day when I don't live this. When my daughter doesn't live this.
It makes me think of a quote from the short story "The Ghost Writer" by Phillip Roth.
"I felt flayed. I felt as though the skin had been peeled away from half my body. Half my face had been peeled away, and everybody would stare in horror for the rest of my life. Or they would stare at the other half, at the half still intact; I could see them smiling, pretending that the flayed half wasn't there and talking to the half that was. And I could hear myself screaming at them, I could see myself thrusting my hideous side right up in their unmarred faces to make them properly horrified. 'I was pretty! I was whole! I was a sunny, lively little girl! Look, look at what they did to me!' But whatever side they looked at, I would always be screaming 'Look at the other! Why don't you look at the other!'...However they look at me, however they talk to me, however they try to comfort me, I will always be this half flayed thing. I will never be young, I will never be kind or at peace or in love, and I will hate them all my life.'"
Yeah. Other people's children are fair game. And we wouldn't want to make a big deal out this or anything...after all, he's really a good guy at heart.
Twice.
I'm thinking that someone who is in my present state of mind probably shouldn't watch this.
Not to mention, twice.
Not to give out spoilers because you HAVE to see it, but the whole thing revolved around sacrificing children. Mostly, other people's children.
Unfortunately, I sat through it and thought about STBX's sister and her reaction to her brother's "indiscretions".
How she tried to tell me "At least this or that didn't happen..." when I talked to her.
I can only imagine what her reaction to that statement would have been had he molested her son. I can only imagine what her reaction would have been had she read the police statement that I read. Had she lived in my skin as I was forced to bear witness to what his sick and perverted self did.
But she just had to tell me that he REALLY DID love his kids. (Yeah, unfortunately, that kind of love is illegal in all 50 states.)
He USED his kids. Love has never entered into his personality.
That was the other part of Children of Earth that screwed me up. Using kids. Not sexually like STBX, but using kids for ones own selfish pleasure and stating "They don't feel anything. They aren't in any pain."
That's what pedophiles say. That's what co-dependant supporters of pedophiles say. They minimize it. They can't walk in someone else's shoes. They're willing to look the other way as long as it happens to someone else's children.
I wonder if there will ever be a day when I don't live this. When my daughter doesn't live this.
It makes me think of a quote from the short story "The Ghost Writer" by Phillip Roth.
"I felt flayed. I felt as though the skin had been peeled away from half my body. Half my face had been peeled away, and everybody would stare in horror for the rest of my life. Or they would stare at the other half, at the half still intact; I could see them smiling, pretending that the flayed half wasn't there and talking to the half that was. And I could hear myself screaming at them, I could see myself thrusting my hideous side right up in their unmarred faces to make them properly horrified. 'I was pretty! I was whole! I was a sunny, lively little girl! Look, look at what they did to me!' But whatever side they looked at, I would always be screaming 'Look at the other! Why don't you look at the other!'...However they look at me, however they talk to me, however they try to comfort me, I will always be this half flayed thing. I will never be young, I will never be kind or at peace or in love, and I will hate them all my life.'"
Yeah. Other people's children are fair game. And we wouldn't want to make a big deal out this or anything...after all, he's really a good guy at heart.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Too Much Honesty Makes The Eyes Bleed
I told my kids that they didn't have to worry about me hooking up with someone at this delicate juncture of our lives. Yes, I have gone out a few times with a friend who just happens to have the opposing teams equipment, but I know I have a lot of work to do on my own head before I get involved in a real relationship.
I've seen too many divorced women swinging from one rotten relationship to the next, searching for ....what? They keep getting hurt and they never stop long enough to put themselves on the proverbial shrinks couch and learn about themselves first.
But when I made some smart ass comment about being a MILF, my daughter gave me the look. "Yeah, all those Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter audio CD's piled up next to your bed make you a real prized catch. Maybe you could even get a Doctor Who night light to set the mood..."
Ouch.
But seriously? Kinda funny too.
She has a point.
I have two sources of literary entertainment on a daily basis. I read personal ads and I read obituaries. Really, they aren't that different. Both are trying to sell the reader on the merits of the person in question. It's just that one has the potential to have a future. Notice, I said potential...
The whole format of personal ads is screwed up. I can't sum up my wants and needs in 2000 words, let alone 20.
It would have to be something like this:
Soon to be single white female in search of something. This might be a relationship. This might be a friendship. If all the stars align, it might be both.
I have children. They are the most important thing in my life. You will not have seniority. You need to realize this. If you have a problem with it, take it to the Union President which would be...me.
I am not here to be your mother. I will not make your doctor appointments. I will not pick up your dirty underwear. I will not pick up your toenail clippings from the bathroom floor. (Well, I might do it because it is DES-GUST-TING and every time I see it, I will seeth with anger. Please use the garbage can damnit! God! I hate you already!)
ahem...
I would love to go camping, canoeing and hiking with you. I would love to learn about new hobbies that you are interested in. Please know that I will ask questions and want to understand things, except if we are talking about NASCAR. If you like NASCAR please stop reading and return to your trailer now, there is nothing more for you to see.
I like to cook for people that I care about. I also like people to cook for me. Note: "Cooking for me" does not involve calling out for pizza.
I'd like someone to talk to but not in an onerous way. You don't have to be my "girlfriend", I have plenty of those. Just tell me your hopes, your dreams, your successes, your failures, how your day went, what you want for dinner, and what you want to do on the weekend.
In other words, let's act like we give a damn about each other. Hey, maybe we won't be acting! Maybe we really will care!
Know that I will never wrap my life around another individual, ever. I spent 17 years shrugging my shoulders and saying things like "Oh, I don't care where we live". You know where that got me? In the middle of fucking Oklahoma with no one to talk to but the neighbor's pig. I have a plan in my head regarding where I will live and what I will do. I will not equivocate anymore.
Note that I am not a creature of culture. I do not care about "important" people's lives. I do, however, have a little fantasy world in my head that involves Time Lords and certain fictitious characters. Know that the seperation between Time Lords and fictitious characters was intentional. When a little blue box lands on my front lawn and a good looking man steps out and asks if I want to go for a ride, you can bet our relationship will be over. It's been real but let's face it...your old beater Chevy ain't got nothing on this guy.
As much as I would like us to have mutual interests, I would also hope that we can do things seperately as well. I don't need you hanging off my 24/7. I will go to the yarn store and knit. Please feel free to have your own "thing". Unless it involves NASCAR. Or online gaming.
There will be no online gaming. Get over it.
Perhaps the most important thing to realize is that I have some rotten shit to get over. I'm working on it. I'm working hard on it. But it makes me not trust people. It makes me think, on a daily basis, that 99.9% of the human race is out to cut my throat. There are times when I will revert back to the self of the past 17 years. I will be the long tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs. Like I said, I'm working on it.
I do have some rather strong values. I value honesty. As anyone who has read this blog knows, I can be painfully honest. I don't play mind games and I don't go for vengeful bitchery. I do believe in justice though and I will beat my head against the wall until I get it or I pass out.
I value respect. Over the past year, I have learned one thing the hard way. I will give as much respect as I get. For sixteen years, I gave respect and got nothing in return. Guess what? It's not a healthy lifestyle.
I also value empathy. Not sympathy. Empathy. The ability of one human being to put themselves in another's shoes and learn from the experience. Sometimes, it's learning things that you don't want to learn.
Also note this: I am not a girly girl. I don't mind getting dirty. I don't cry alot. I don't get all mushy and weepy. It doesn't mean that you can't melt my heart with a little kindness. Flowers? Chocolate? Putting the fucking toilet seat down when you get done peeing? It's all good.
Yeah. So that would be me.
Now that I read this through I think I will invest in that Doctor Who night light. I think I'm going to be alone for quite some time...
I've seen too many divorced women swinging from one rotten relationship to the next, searching for ....what? They keep getting hurt and they never stop long enough to put themselves on the proverbial shrinks couch and learn about themselves first.
But when I made some smart ass comment about being a MILF, my daughter gave me the look. "Yeah, all those Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter audio CD's piled up next to your bed make you a real prized catch. Maybe you could even get a Doctor Who night light to set the mood..."
Ouch.
But seriously? Kinda funny too.
She has a point.
I have two sources of literary entertainment on a daily basis. I read personal ads and I read obituaries. Really, they aren't that different. Both are trying to sell the reader on the merits of the person in question. It's just that one has the potential to have a future. Notice, I said potential...
The whole format of personal ads is screwed up. I can't sum up my wants and needs in 2000 words, let alone 20.
It would have to be something like this:
Soon to be single white female in search of something. This might be a relationship. This might be a friendship. If all the stars align, it might be both.
I have children. They are the most important thing in my life. You will not have seniority. You need to realize this. If you have a problem with it, take it to the Union President which would be...me.
I am not here to be your mother. I will not make your doctor appointments. I will not pick up your dirty underwear. I will not pick up your toenail clippings from the bathroom floor. (Well, I might do it because it is DES-GUST-TING and every time I see it, I will seeth with anger. Please use the garbage can damnit! God! I hate you already!)
ahem...
I would love to go camping, canoeing and hiking with you. I would love to learn about new hobbies that you are interested in. Please know that I will ask questions and want to understand things, except if we are talking about NASCAR. If you like NASCAR please stop reading and return to your trailer now, there is nothing more for you to see.
I like to cook for people that I care about. I also like people to cook for me. Note: "Cooking for me" does not involve calling out for pizza.
I'd like someone to talk to but not in an onerous way. You don't have to be my "girlfriend", I have plenty of those. Just tell me your hopes, your dreams, your successes, your failures, how your day went, what you want for dinner, and what you want to do on the weekend.
In other words, let's act like we give a damn about each other. Hey, maybe we won't be acting! Maybe we really will care!
Know that I will never wrap my life around another individual, ever. I spent 17 years shrugging my shoulders and saying things like "Oh, I don't care where we live". You know where that got me? In the middle of fucking Oklahoma with no one to talk to but the neighbor's pig. I have a plan in my head regarding where I will live and what I will do. I will not equivocate anymore.
Note that I am not a creature of culture. I do not care about "important" people's lives. I do, however, have a little fantasy world in my head that involves Time Lords and certain fictitious characters. Know that the seperation between Time Lords and fictitious characters was intentional. When a little blue box lands on my front lawn and a good looking man steps out and asks if I want to go for a ride, you can bet our relationship will be over. It's been real but let's face it...your old beater Chevy ain't got nothing on this guy.
As much as I would like us to have mutual interests, I would also hope that we can do things seperately as well. I don't need you hanging off my 24/7. I will go to the yarn store and knit. Please feel free to have your own "thing". Unless it involves NASCAR. Or online gaming.
There will be no online gaming. Get over it.
Perhaps the most important thing to realize is that I have some rotten shit to get over. I'm working on it. I'm working hard on it. But it makes me not trust people. It makes me think, on a daily basis, that 99.9% of the human race is out to cut my throat. There are times when I will revert back to the self of the past 17 years. I will be the long tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs. Like I said, I'm working on it.
I do have some rather strong values. I value honesty. As anyone who has read this blog knows, I can be painfully honest. I don't play mind games and I don't go for vengeful bitchery. I do believe in justice though and I will beat my head against the wall until I get it or I pass out.
I value respect. Over the past year, I have learned one thing the hard way. I will give as much respect as I get. For sixteen years, I gave respect and got nothing in return. Guess what? It's not a healthy lifestyle.
I also value empathy. Not sympathy. Empathy. The ability of one human being to put themselves in another's shoes and learn from the experience. Sometimes, it's learning things that you don't want to learn.
Also note this: I am not a girly girl. I don't mind getting dirty. I don't cry alot. I don't get all mushy and weepy. It doesn't mean that you can't melt my heart with a little kindness. Flowers? Chocolate? Putting the fucking toilet seat down when you get done peeing? It's all good.
Yeah. So that would be me.
Now that I read this through I think I will invest in that Doctor Who night light. I think I'm going to be alone for quite some time...
Monday, July 06, 2009
The Perfect Man
I don't rest well.
Even when I feel like crap, I find myself lying down for awhile and then getting up to do "stuff".
And then lying back down again when the room gets a little too squiffy.
This morning was spent on the phone with the phone company. The last great bastion that I had yet to conquer. The account was still in STBX's name. Technically, I shouldn't have been able to make changes in it, although I did get our number changed when his bill collectors came a calling.
But to add services or change them, I had to get his "permission".
And although I told them exactly where they could find him, (and what part of my anatomy they could kiss in the mean time), the only way to change or close the account would be if I got an attorney involved.
Ummm. Yeah....about that? It'll be a cold day in hell when I'm getting a lawyer to do anything as trivial as this.
So instead of closing "his" account, I had to open my own account. With my new name, THANK YOU! They didn't seem to care that it wasn't "official" yet and putting it in my new name felt pretty damn good.
And the old account? With "his" name on it? Well, that will just keep getting billed to him...and when it doesn't get paid, it will just go to collections.
Moving things over to the new name has been my way of maintaining my sanity. I have never felt so "owned" by another individual as I have since he contested the name change and tried to get it taken out of the divorce. Until I can go forward legally, I'm investigating getting our social security numbers changed so that when we move, we will be able to really disappear.
Do you realize how many things your social security number is tied to? Everyday, it hits me anew. Shit! That means I have to do this... or that... or the other...
Taxes, college transcripts, medical information, social security payments which will kick in when I'm 70 and six days from death, banking, credit, mortgages, and two hundred and eleventy other things.
For some reason though, having something to DO while I wait for the next shoe to drop makes me feel a little less powerless.
And if nothing else, the kids will be able to legally change their names before he leaves prison.
My daughter did get me one thing while we were at Convergence that I will be putting in my office at work...
We refer to him as their "new daddy".
Let's face it, he's perfect! He can sing, he can dance, and I'll bet he can even cook!
And if he ever annoys me, I can just rip his fucking little head off and no one will have to suffer...
Even when I feel like crap, I find myself lying down for awhile and then getting up to do "stuff".
And then lying back down again when the room gets a little too squiffy.
This morning was spent on the phone with the phone company. The last great bastion that I had yet to conquer. The account was still in STBX's name. Technically, I shouldn't have been able to make changes in it, although I did get our number changed when his bill collectors came a calling.
But to add services or change them, I had to get his "permission".
And although I told them exactly where they could find him, (and what part of my anatomy they could kiss in the mean time), the only way to change or close the account would be if I got an attorney involved.
Ummm. Yeah....about that? It'll be a cold day in hell when I'm getting a lawyer to do anything as trivial as this.
So instead of closing "his" account, I had to open my own account. With my new name, THANK YOU! They didn't seem to care that it wasn't "official" yet and putting it in my new name felt pretty damn good.
And the old account? With "his" name on it? Well, that will just keep getting billed to him...and when it doesn't get paid, it will just go to collections.
Moving things over to the new name has been my way of maintaining my sanity. I have never felt so "owned" by another individual as I have since he contested the name change and tried to get it taken out of the divorce. Until I can go forward legally, I'm investigating getting our social security numbers changed so that when we move, we will be able to really disappear.
Do you realize how many things your social security number is tied to? Everyday, it hits me anew. Shit! That means I have to do this... or that... or the other...
Taxes, college transcripts, medical information, social security payments which will kick in when I'm 70 and six days from death, banking, credit, mortgages, and two hundred and eleventy other things.
For some reason though, having something to DO while I wait for the next shoe to drop makes me feel a little less powerless.
And if nothing else, the kids will be able to legally change their names before he leaves prison.
My daughter did get me one thing while we were at Convergence that I will be putting in my office at work...
We refer to him as their "new daddy".
Let's face it, he's perfect! He can sing, he can dance, and I'll bet he can even cook!
And if he ever annoys me, I can just rip his fucking little head off and no one will have to suffer...
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
I Name Thee...
Today could have been incredibly horrible but instead it was only mildy horrible.
The creaky wheels of justice have been kicked into motion today and hopefully two things will come down on my soon to be ex husband's head next week...divorce papers and a visit from the police.
In honor of taking a big step in the right direction, my daughter, son, and I sat down tonight to discuss the all important name thing.
We went through suggestions, searched the internet, and then came down to where we, as a family of nerds and geeks always come down to: Sci-fi and Superheros.
It was a real emotional release to just get stupid and silly as we wandered from German names to French names to Klingon names. Believe it or not, German and Klingon aren't all that different.
But as we were snorting with laughter my daughter suddenly piped up with "What about Harkness?"
As the young ones say these days OMG!!!
It is a relatively normal name without being Smith, Jones, or Johnson.
It represents an incredibly cool, gorgeous, strong, and immortal guy named Jack.
And when she said it, all three of us froze, considered it for a heartbeat, and then simultaneously agreed.
Harkness Wins!
The best part of it? No matter how many times he dies, no matter how many times he gets hurt, he always gets back up, dusts himself off, and kicks some alien ass. I feel that this is incredibly important.
And the runners up being Constantine, Nightingale, Sparrow, and Fleecy Pete all had some sort of opposition.
We did determine though that someday, we need to get a shelter cat and name it Fleecy Pete. That is definately a name that cannot go to waste!
The creaky wheels of justice have been kicked into motion today and hopefully two things will come down on my soon to be ex husband's head next week...divorce papers and a visit from the police.
In honor of taking a big step in the right direction, my daughter, son, and I sat down tonight to discuss the all important name thing.
We went through suggestions, searched the internet, and then came down to where we, as a family of nerds and geeks always come down to: Sci-fi and Superheros.
It was a real emotional release to just get stupid and silly as we wandered from German names to French names to Klingon names. Believe it or not, German and Klingon aren't all that different.
But as we were snorting with laughter my daughter suddenly piped up with "What about Harkness?"
As the young ones say these days OMG!!!
It is a relatively normal name without being Smith, Jones, or Johnson.
It represents an incredibly cool, gorgeous, strong, and immortal guy named Jack.
And when she said it, all three of us froze, considered it for a heartbeat, and then simultaneously agreed.
Harkness Wins!
The best part of it? No matter how many times he dies, no matter how many times he gets hurt, he always gets back up, dusts himself off, and kicks some alien ass. I feel that this is incredibly important.
And the runners up being Constantine, Nightingale, Sparrow, and Fleecy Pete all had some sort of opposition.
We did determine though that someday, we need to get a shelter cat and name it Fleecy Pete. That is definately a name that cannot go to waste!
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