I must have been angry.

I came across this hand written note this morning. I must have been very angry when I wrote it. I remember my EX accusing me of flirting and making unappropriate sexual comments in a chat room. It’s taken me forever to type this out. I think it’s funny now but I thought I’d share none the less. It's dated July 16th 2003.

Ira:

Thank you for allowing me to have such a wonderful evening after we fought last night before you left. I'll say you certainly got what you so desperately sought.

I believe that I am a valuable person who deserves to be treated with respect. Is it possible that your jealousy might act as a source to one of the plethora of social perceptions you were taught to defend yourself? I'll take a stab here: it could have a use that pulls in ideas of vulnerability. We might be jealous because the object (in this discussion, me) that has some interaction with a third party (being anyone in Chat). I shouldn't’t have to fear talking to any third party without you accusing me of being romantic with them. It's an interesting proposition that the emotion of jealousy/possessiveness -- in this narrow context of romantic love is not necessarily sinful or ethically wrong unless it is taken to extremes! I was strongly considering that crossing the privacy line is just me being too "private a person", not you being a clearly jealous and suspicious person.

This jealousy is not a function of possessiveness; rather, it stems from something we think of as part of us, and the event that causes the jealousy brings that connectivity into doubt. I know you have connections to other females and that is fine however, it seems to be acceptable for you to carry long telephone conversations with them. That’s fine, I don’t care…apparently you are assuming that I am doing the same. It would be none of your business to whom I choose to talk to. This thing makes the whole thing much more bitter to me, I don’t do "that" and to have you assume that I do builds resentment.

You seemed to be distracting from the issue last night (avoidance is a form of verbal abuse) and covering it up with accusations (verbal attacks). I have tried to be understanding, I have tried to believe that it may have been the alcohol but, you have displayed this behavior a few times previously and I am quite concerned of it. Seems to me that first of all, you've been working on boundaries for me and secondly, that you have perhaps a hard time trusting your own boundaries. You have no purpose or personal right to be questioning my conversations in a public chat room I feel like you’ve been disrespectful of my boundaries. I refuse to defend myself to any man when my intentions are honest, my intregrety is true and my morals are intact. You accuse me because I am attractive and in your irrational beliefs that automatically means that I'm promiscuous. "Of course that's wrong!"

That at all clear Ira Dear?
Congratulations you aroused me allright.

I so like the fact that my ex is illiterate and he couldn't pull an articulate thought from his peabrain. It's a wonder he can speak with syllables and I bet this note confused him.

Usual Rant

Alright, So if I have learned anything in the past week, It's that I've become very good at faking a smile, I have a bubble that has a small maximum capacity and when that capacity has reached it's limit I get annoyed. Me + Bank Card = no goodness whatSOever. I procrastinate just a teeny bit too much. I also either majorly overstate or understate things ie: I majorly understate when I say "teeny", it's usually code for "A WHOLE INFINITY-SIZED LOT". I suck at lying once I open my freaking mouth, I hate people who chew with their mouth open, earwigs and bad breath. Hicks just piss me off when they try to be intellectual, I’ll roll my eyes loudly at them. I reinerated how much I can’t stand doing the dishes so much that I can’t even find myself loading the dishwasher. I hate malfunctioning lids of coffee cups from Timmy's and snow. Oh ya, and when will I ever learn to use my time wisely and save myself the stress of day-before disaster-outbreaks?

I need to find my limit, or more correctly.... when I get to the place that I know is my limit, I just just need to quite frankly STOP. That goes for everything from drinking to shopping to giving favors to popcorn to jumping jacks, just everything.

Crap.Hope your week has been better.

An Open Window

Headlamps of a locomotive bathe the surroundings in front and onto my slumbering walls in bright light. My neighbourhood is quiet at this hour, with most residents hunkering under warm blankets. It’s just spring and the trees have started wakening from winter. There is great anticapatation for the returning song birds who have just started to nest in our new backyard trees. I open my window and listen to their morning song. The cool air rushes down my nightgown and onto my feet. The morning is filled with long distance commuters with whirring wheels on highways within minutes from each other. I stretch my legs in the coolness, shiver and take in a fresh breath of air. I wonder about the songs I hear and how little birds can stay warm. I glance to that unstained wooden fence beyond the pond that in the glow of the locomotive I see a shimmering paper thin layer of ice covering the surface like a blanket, keeping the new life below protected. I think that beyond that fence on the other side, might be a far better place. I hear how they share laughter and I see the glow in their eyes for the loving embraces and the child growing inside her. The gentleness to the hand, touching her as she accepts with a smile. Between that wooden fence and my back yard is where I find my mind. A pond and some big pink and grey rocks that shimmer in the sun. The green grass is alike to finding in a mountain-top meadow, newly planted red maples, alder and grey fur trees with a grey pea gravel path incircling everything like warm arms. There are wooden benches to sit and contemplate the meadow, the fence, and whatever beauty and wonder that lives on the other side. This side of the fence is where you find me.Tea is poured from a kettle. I stare to the doorway not touching my toast recalling the open window. The cool air can only make it warmer within those four walls.

Originally written March 2005.

Is everybody's life on hold or is it just me?

Marcel Marceau says, "It's good to shut up sometimes."

This is the beginning of the rest of your life. Well, that's what they tell you anyways. But who are they to tell you when the rest of your life really begins? Isn't every morning that you wake up to a new day the beginning of something? Isn't it funny how you don't realize how far you've let things go until you've nearly reached the edge? Isn't it funny how you can tell yourself a lie over and over again until one day you almost believe it yourself? Almost but not quite making it harder for you because belief in something anything, is what you've always desired. Belief can be unattaintable when you don't even believe in yourself most days and when unstable, unanswered questions riddle everything you try to believe in.


Why do I tell myself that it's fine when I know that the more I tell myself that it is, the more it isn't, and the more I let it happen? Even after I post this I know I'll put that mask back on and walk out this door and be that woman to do those things that, that mother does. Act happy and almost be happy... almost but not quite. Twelve years is a long time when you say it, but live it and then you'll wake up one day on a Thursday morning in February and ask, "Where the hell did the time go?" How the hell did I do this for this long and not even realize that one year, then two, then ten and twelve have gone by. I've gone through 3 childrens lives... a relationship that I barely even enjoyed, now realizing I never wanted to be in in the first place. All the while having nobody to really know who I am and what bothers me and what I hate and love about myself. What's gonna happen if I die tomorrow, having all the people I know in my life think that they know me, when in reality they never did? The idiom refers to finding something that is hidden in a mound of information that appears virtually impossible to find. I have found somebody who seems to "get it" right about me more times than he’s gotten it wrong. He lives too far away from me, he really sees me and I appreciate being who I am now to him, now in this moment.

I think I'll go to the library today.

Ernie And Burt