Its the End of the World as we Know it!

So, by now I think that we can all agree my life seems to be this total comedy of errors, that never fails to entertain all who hear about it. And, while most of it is miserable, and by all accounts worse than the typical piss in your morning cheerios, I am always able to remain positive. Sure, I may bitch and moan for a little while, but in the past Ive been able to shake it off because I cant help but believe that God has great plans in store for my life.

Suffice it to say its been a rocky last few years for me, but lately, it has seemed that there is finally, and legitimately, light at the end of my tunnel, and I cant tell you how liberating it has been!! But, as you may know, unfortunately, as so often seems to be true to form these last few years, things have once again come crashing down on me. The manhole has been shut, my tunnel is as black, dank, and long as ever, and sadly this time, its been a much more difficult pill to swallow.

Now, if you dont really know the particulars, Ill spare you because there is enough depressing stuff going on in the world without adding to it. Gas is going up once again, and as youve seen in "The Fug Files" the proliferation of terrible 80's workout wear is on the rise- the end is near!! But, mostly and in particular, I just dont want to go into it. Im tired of complaining, and dont feel like expending the energy to do so. And, as Ive been moping about this last little while, mourning the loss of my way out of the pit that has been my life the last few years, I have contemplated my situation, and came to a conclusion....

ITS THE END OF THE WORLD AS I KNOW IT!

Not really.....but seriously, how many times in your life has something truly dramatic happened, and as you sat devastated, surveying all the broken pieces of your life/heart/identity, have you thought to yourself, "This is it! My life is over!!"....?

If youre honest with yourself, youve had this experience at least once or twice, and at least half a dozen times if youre of the female persuasion, mostly during those unfortunate junior high and high school years...

As you sit and ponder how your life will ever be the same again after such a cataclysmic event, you probably begin to wonder if you arent just perhaps being a little bit dramatic because youre a little emo at the moment. Well, Id like to point out that you are not being overly dramatic, but rather that you are indeed right- things wont ever be the same! Not to be Captain Obvious or anything, but in all reality after the death of a loved one, the loss of a relationship, or whatever your crisis may be, how can things ever really be the same?

The simple answer is they cant, something happened, and now your life has been forever changed. Now, you can either take this as a negative or a positive- its all a matter of perspective. And, how you perceive your crisis greatly depends on which of the 3 types of people who exist in this world....

The Pessimist will sit and cry about the injustice of it all, and bemoan the loss of all they had just yesterday. The Optimist will sit in wonder at all that they have had the privilege of having, and dream about all that is possible. Personally, I think of myself as the third type of person that exists: the Realist.

The Realist sits for a while, and bitches and moans about the situation, but then does something the other two dont- the Realist moves into action with the realization that the road ahead is still there, and the race isnt over. The Realist doesnt sit and dream about all of the new opportunities, they get up and get going again. The Realist grasps the concept that while the things they had were great, the things most worthwhile in life are those which they didnt even know they wanted, until they unknowingly stumbled into them.

As my recent journey into pessimism ends, I am back to being a Realist, and as is true to form, I am hopeful, because....

Its the end of the world, as we know it....and I feel FINE.

DISCLAIMER:

If you have a weak stomach, or have recently had surgery on your eyes, please dont not read any further down the post. You have been warned!

After all, it could always be worse! I could be delusional enough to think that the above look is hot, instead of a perfect opportunity to make Jane Fonda jokes. Thats right lady, Jane Fonda and 1984 called, and they want the thong and leg warmers back!!

The Curious Case of CrackSmoker CrazyPants

As I continued to ride the wave of dating in the new year, I began to actually enjoy myself. Sure I had been on a couple of interesting dates lately, but at least Im not sitting at home miserable. And the experiences definitely make for great entertainment when hanging out with my bitches.

As I entered the second week of January I suddenly found myself talking to about 5 guys. I wasnt sure I was particularly interested in all 5, but its a numbers game and all. Youve just got to roll the dice...

The emails and text messages continued on into the next week, and by the time my kid-free weekend was on the horizon, I actually had 3 dates lined up! Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday. Naturally I had to stop and discuss this all with Daisy over wine on the couch.

"So lets see what youve got here Elizabeth!," Daisy exclaimed excitedly.

"Well, heres Wednesday. I like him a lot- hes funny..." I started.

"Buuutt??," Daisy continued, sensing my hesitation.

"Well, Im not sure hes that cute," I finished.

"No! Hes cute! He is. Besides, just try it on.", she began.

"Uh uh! Danny!! Danny!", I screamed at her in protest, pointing a finger at her.

"Just go. The dates already set. Besides, hes cute.", she insisted, giving me the evil eye for mentioning her own foray into not-quite-attractedness.

"Heres Saturday. I think hes SOOOOO cute!! This is the one Im really excited about", I gushed as I showed her the tasty morsel on the menu for Saturday.

"Ohhhhh! He is cute!! And young! Good for you Elizabeth, Im proud!", she said with a pleased smirk.

I knew she would approve- Daisy has always been fond of the young ones.

"And heres Sunday.", I said flatly as I pulled up Sunday's profile for examination.

"Well, hes really cute. Why dont you seem excited??!", she asked curiously.

"I dont know. He doesnt talk a whole lot on the phone and stuff and Im just not sure about him, ya know??", I said.

"Well, maybe hes one of those people who doesnt like talking on the phone but is way better in person.", she reasoned.

"Yeah, I know.", I said.

"Ill expect a full report on Monday", she demanded.

"Of course.", I chuckled.

"Maybe Ill be calling you to come rescue me from one of these guys!", I joked.

The week commenced without incidence, and I began to get excited for my 3 dates, Saturday in particular.

Wednesday... blahh. Nice guy, looked nothing like his picture... so not my type. Exactly the experience I was anticipating. Oh well.

Saturday.... Halle-freakin-lujah!

Saturday's name was Kenny, and he was every bit as cute in person as he appeared in Cyber Space. We had a great time, and have so much in common that the entire evening was spent saying "No way!! Me too!". It was great.

Sunday came and I was really not excited to go out on my football date. I decided I had to go though... Not just because I already had it planned, but because one great date does not mean I swear off all other men. Besides, I love football, and if nothing else I was watching the NFL playoffs, so how bad could it possibly be?

My date was at 330pm at a local sports bar to watch the AFC playoff game, but I spent the first half of the day with my sister and her husband, watching the first football game, the NFC championship. Kenny texted me the whole time...


As 330 approached, I began feeling more and more anxious, but in a bad way. I decided it was just because I had spent the last few hours text warring with Kenny and felt a teeny tiny bit bad that after we had just set up our next date, I was on my way out to go on a date with someone else. Realizing this was absurd because we are not betrothed all of the sudden, and he is likely at least going out on dates with other girls as well, I tried to shake off my hesitation.

When I finally got out to meet the other guy, I was immediately disappointed. I could tell it was him from the pics, but he was significantly shorter than hed listed. He also looked kinda strange, but I was there and was gonna just watch the game if nothing else. As I walked up to go meet him, he told me we needed to go somewhere else because the bar was too crowded. He asked me if I minded if we just took one car, and just let him drive, and since I knew exactly where we were going and it was seriously 2 blocks away, I said ok.

Big mistake.

Not only did this guy drive like a complete maniac... he was sooooo WEIRD. He was not able to follow directions, even the ones scribbled on a napkin. He also stared at me in a manner that made my skin completely crawl. When he began asking me to tell him all about Luca, and I felt so uneasy by his demeanor that I immediately changed the subject. When we finally got to the new destination, I was happy to be able to watch the game. I figured if nothing else, it was a valid excuse not to pay attention to this very strange character I was there with.

As we sat down, I tried to pinpoint for myself what exactly it was about him that was so unnerving, but was seriously at a loss.

"Dont you want to sit next to me??", he hissed from across the table.

"Ummmm, no thanks. I dont like when people sit right next to each other.", I said completely creeped out.

"Well how will you see the game?!", he exclaimed. "The TV is behind you so you need to sit next to me", he said with a salacious leer.

"Ummmmm, there are like 6 TVS right there", I said wide-eyed as I pointed off to my left.

"Fine, have it your way!", he hissed, making a weird recoiling motion as if what Id said stung him physically.

It was in that moment- the way he hissed when he spoke, and the strange recoiling motion he made that suddenly slapped me upside the head and I instantly knew of whom he reminded me....

He was Gollum!!

He totally reminded me of that nasty little creature from Lord of The Rings that kept talking about "My Precious". In fact he sounded so much like him too, but slightly gay. I think this was mostly due to exaggerated hiss he placed at the end of each statement that reminded me so much of Kathy Griffin and her whole bit about the "gay hiss".

God I love Kathy Griffin! Sorry, I digress....

After 5 minutes of completely bizarre, disjointed conversation, he had told me that match sucked because girls never went out with him more than once, if they even called him back at all. Needless to say, I knew why, so when the waitress asked if we wanted drinks, I whipped out my ID.

My strange companion also handed the waitress his ID, which she took and was looking at when he suddenly got very flustered, and ripped it from her hands. Both the waitress and I looked at each other life WTF?! And were stunned as he handed her *another* CA drivers license.

"Sorry, I gave you the wrong ID", he explained.

She looked at me like get the fuck out of here. His explanation was something which made absolutely no sense. He claimed that he needed the additional drivers license if he was going to get back into the family business of "selling cars". He claimed you need a separate license to work at a dealership. This of course, totally false. I checked up on it.

At that point, I started to get worried. I was sitting there watching a football game with someone who was certifiably out of their damned mind. Or perhaps a serial killer. Either way, this was not good, and my mind raced to figure out what I was going to do. Meanwhile, my date continued to throw the Maker's Mark and cokes down his pie hole as if they were vials of Holy Water.

The strange goblin like motioning and gesturing only increased in frequency and creepiness. He was turning into the creature Gollum before my horrified eyes.

Overwhelmed, I did the only thing I could do, and started watching the game. This actually made my date upset and launched him into a tirade about why am I watching the game and not paying attention to him. I then pointed out that this was indeed the reason we came to a SPORTS BAR... To watch the AFC playoffs. If he didnt want to watch the game, he shouldve said so before we made plans to do just that. The tirade then took a completely bizarre turn when he informed me that he does like football, he just doesnt "study it on the internet like some people do".

I know, right?!

"Excuse me?", I asked him, unsure of what to even say to such a statement as the one that just escaped from his terminally disturbed lips.

"Some of us prefer to PLAY sports, instead of read about them on the internet like YOU!", he yelled.

"I see. And what sport do you play?", I asked, regretting the question as soon as it hit the air.

I shit you not, the following is his actual response.

"Gymnasticsssssssssssssssssssss!!", he emphatically proclaimed, exaggerated hiss flying all over the place.

What can you say to that?! I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to The Steelers and Ravens.

All of the sudden, as if sent by God, a text message broke the uncomfortable silence. At this point, I am so damn happy to have ANY reason to get my phone out, that I go ahead and do so, despite the displeased look on my dates face. And, as if it could possibly be any better than just any other person on the face of this wretched planet besides the creature across the table from me, the text was actually from Kenny.

Handsome, responsible, and fantastically NORMAL Mr. Saturday Night. There is a God, and He loves me, yes He does!

I let out a huge sigh of relief. Blackberry saves the day (again)!!

"Excuse me! Im sitting right here!", hissed my date indignantly.

I did not even look up to acknowledge him, and begin to text Kenny back, because at this point lets face it, I dont give two shits what Cracksmoker CrazyPants thinks. I admit to Kenny that Im out on another date... And that its going TERRIBLY. I ask him to come get me.

At first, its clear he thought I was joking around... ya know, because I do that sometimes. I really didnt expect him to come get me anyhow, so next I texted my brother in law who lives down the street.

About 5 minutes go by, and between the two parties I am besieging a rescue from, no one is seeming to understand that I am indeed serious and in very dire straights. Quickly I realize I am going to have to take matters into my own hands and make my escape some other way.

The classic "Im gonna go to the bathroom" seems to be the best idea to get me to a point where I can sneak out. Sure my car is 2 city blocks away, but I dont care- Ive got to get the Hell out of here because hes so creepy, drunk, and yelling at me for watching the game. You know its a bad sign when the waitstaff comes by every 5 mins to check that youre ok....

This plan looked like it was going to work flawlessly, until Mr. CrazyPants got up and slinked after me, exclaiming he didnt need my permission to go to the bathroom also. Clearly, he knew I was going to try to escape, so once inside the bathroom I told Kenny I was dead serious, and please come get me ASAP because this guy is nuts. Thankfully he realized that I was not just being funny, and told me that he is on his way.

Since my sister or her husband never answered, I went ahead and texted them nevermind, I had someone coming to save me.

When I came out of the bathroom, Mr. CrazyPants was standing there..... waiting.

We went back to the table for what seemed an eternity, when all of the sudden out of nowhere, my sister and her husband come walking in! I couldnt believe it, they hadnt answered! I was glad they were there, but was wondering how this was all gonna shake out with Kenny on his way too.

My sis and her husband ended up coming and sitting with us, and after another 5 minutes of the same sort of bizarre, disjointed conversation that I had sat through earlier, my sister declares she has to go to the bathroom. Naturally, I needed to show her where it is, and that gave us an excuse to slip off to the bathroom.

Because her husband was sitting there next to him, CrackSmoker CrazyPants clearly felt ok letting us go to the facilities. Unfortunately for us, the restaurant we were in was a big circle, and from where he was sitting, he could see everything.

The only thing that was obscured was the hostess' area, and my sis and I hid behind it, trying to figure out what we were going to do. No sooner had we grabbed a waiter and explained the situation, than my waitress came running up. She told us that not only was he really strange, but the two ID's he gave her were both CA drivers licenses with the same picture, but two completely different names!!

Right at that moment, Kenny comes waltzing through the door. Seeing me he starts over in my direction, and seems confused as I grab his arm and tell him to walk out the door.

"Wait, whats going on?! Is that the guy?!", he said motioning towards the waiter who was still talking to my sister.

"Just WALK! GOOOO!!", I told him.

Outside I explained what had happened since Id texted him last, and he said he was disappointed that he was not going to get the chance to act out the whole speech he had come up with in the car on his way over. He said he had a whole thing planned out where he was gonna pretend to be Luca's dad and yell at the guy, asking him if he plans on changing diapers and paying for soccer lessons, or if he was just gonna come in and try to steal his son's mother.

Man I wish I couldve seen that!!

A few minutes later my sister and her husband came out, and Kenny told them he would take me back to my car. Turns out he had been watching the NFL playoffs all day with his buddies, and left them to come pick me up. Thats right- the super cute, sweet guy I had met only the night before left his manly football party to come rescue a girl he barely knew.

After that I told him I wanted to take him to dinner to thank him, and he accepted but in the end he wouldnt let me pay. I thought for sure this was going to be the last time I would see him. He was a very nice guy, so he would not feel good about knowing I might be in trouble, but I was sure he probably would write me off as total drama and never call me again. I wouldnt have blamed him one bit either.

Instead we sat there in a Mexican restaurant across from one another, watching the rest of the AFC championship game, on different TV's, and nothing could have felt more natural.

After about an hour, CrackSmoker CrazyPants called and left me a message saying hes still there at the bar, and where am I?! Kenny and I laughed like two children at the absolute absurdity of the end of the message where CrazyPants declared "I hope what I think just happened didnt actually happen, because fate is a Mother Fucker!! Call me".

As if.

"I am sooo embarrassed!!", I said to Kenny, still incredulous at the ordeal.

"Well, I hope this teaches you not to go out on dates with random strangers you meet off of the internet.", he said dryly, a smile dancing at the corners of his lips.

Oh yeah, did I mention hes also funny?

The Numbers Game

"You know Elizabeth, and let me preface this next statement by saying I shouldnt even have to say this to you but whatever, here goes: Its a numbers game", Daisy said.

"This is not sales Daisy," I began, rolling my eyes at how in my time of need this is the crap I get served.

"Psssshhhh! Of course this is sales! Everything in life is "sales", so youve got to play the odds but then also remember that once you do get those appointments, you cant sell everyone...", she continued.

"Thats not true," I retorted. "You can sell anyone........except stupid"

"Exactly. The defense rests." Daisy said with what I imagine was a rather wry smile.

"What you need is a nice, down to earth kind of guy."

As I hung up the phone, I felt even more discouraged than when I had first began recounting the incident with Officer Granny Panties. I mean seriously! Couldnt she luxuriate in my misery with me for just a moment?

My morning commute was even more hectic than usual, and served to only further exacerbate my irritation with life in general. Deciding that I was right, and Daisy was, not only wrong but insensitive to my plight, I began to contemplate my possible courses of action. After a few minutes reflection, I was not happy with the options:

1) Give up.

2) Play the numbers game.

Daisy was right.

Damnit.

With this realization, I decided I needed to be proactive and start really searching for someone new. As was the case the last time, I searched only for the men who said they did not mind dating a woman who has a child, and began emailing away. The only difference was that this time instead of sending out 4 or 5 emails, I took Daisy's words to heart and emailed like 40 men.

Hey, its a numbers game, right? Someone would respond, and it would be someone wonderful! Resolutely, I closed my laptop, pleased with the evenings progress. Tomorrow would be a great day!

The next day I opened my laptop up, excited once again to see who wanted to date me NOW.

Sadly, just like the last time, my inbox was empty.

All the men I emailed had read my witty flirtations, viewed my profile, but decided against responding. WTF?! I was starting to feel like this was the Twilight Zone. Instead of getting all bent out of shape, I decided to give all my potential suitors a couple of days in which to respond. Not everyone has mad writing skills and can bust out something fantastic at the drop of a hat- it was not entirely out of the realm of possibility that some men might need a few days to form a proper response.

As the days passed by, I diligently checked back, my hope waning each time that I found no new messages. I became more and more discouraged as now not even the degenerate losers were emailing me any longer. I could practically see the cobwebs and dust begin to form in my little match.com inbox, and felt like I was living that scene from Bridget Jones' Diary where her answering machine declares: "You have no new messages. Not even one. Not even from your mother."

Instead of doing as Bridget did, and forming a relationship with two men simultaneously (Ben and Jerry), I decided to do something more proactive and began planning for the future. I began looking for a home in Boca Raton, Florida because clearly, I was going to die a spinster.

Thankfully, these moments of indulgent self pity were only occasional, and ended after about a week.

It was about two weeks after I had last wallowed in the pit of despair that I finally got an email back. Being the hopeless romantic that I am, I was flying high as I logged in to view my new matchmail. Unfortunately, it was one of my degenerate loser fans who decided to send me another email letting me know he was indeed serious about dating me.

Oh Goody.

My campaign of hardened indifference continued.

The next few days saw quite a few hits to my beleaguered email inbox, but I remained steadfast in my apathy, confident I would find the same type of depressing requests. I was too busy anyhow with my new job, friends, and my child to dedicate time to a failing enterprise such as dating I reasoned. Life continued on at break-neck speed.

The next week, after making another sale at work and feeling quite pleased with myself and the renewed spirit I was finally feeling again I decided to give my inbox a little peek. Cautiously I sorted through the rubble and immediately felt myself starting to slip into that familiar funk that seemed to overtake me anytime I logged in. Ahhh, here it comes! And no sooner had I began to get that sour milk taste in my mouth then I saw an email that looked promising. Without conceding that perhaps someone decent had finally emailed me, I warily read through the short note.

"Hmmmmmmm. Not bad", I thought. Lets check out the profile....

27, Executive Management, Marathon Runner, Non Smoker, decent looking.

"Not bad, not bad at all," I thought, a faint glimmer of hope defiantly rising up within me.

Hesitantly I emailed back, not wanting to get my hopes up, just in case his email had been the product of late night perusing under the influence.

Two hours later, I received a response and it was a rather nice email from a bona fide nice, down to earth guy.

Crap. Daisy is going to gloat. Damn her and her conventional wisdom.

Granny Panties

So, last month, I went ahead and made good on a promise I had made to Daisy. Ok, it wasnt exactly a promise, it was more like a New Years Resolution that Daisy made me make, for my own good (of course), but semantics, whatever...

What was the promise/resolution you ask?

Daisy made me promise to break out of the rut and try online dating, or e-Hoeing, as she is fond of calling it.

I know what youre thinking.... So keep it to yourselves! This is my blog!

Anyhow, back to the story...

About a month ago I broke down and signed back up for match.com. I did it because I promised, and because more importantly, they promised to "make love happen" for me. After pondering the decision for about two weeks, I figured why not?! If it didnt work, Ill get 6 months more miserable experience FREE of charge, and the right to bitch and moan in earnest about the plight of my situation, because after all, I was indeed doing something to remedy it. And, the optimist in me was thrilled by the prospect that it just might work, and Id finally find my happily ever after...

Ok, Im not gonna lie, the right to bitch and moan in earnest was my real motivation... but then again Im sure you all already knew that.

Upon completion of my profile, I began receiving messages and "winks" instantly. I had almost forgotten how fun it can be to have a liege of adoring fans. Feeling pleased, I opened my match dashboard, and instantly remembered why I stopped "e-Hoeing" in the first place: my adoring fans were the same bunch of unfortunate misfits and rejects I routinely tried to avoid in the real world.
Determined to have a positive attitude, I began searching for my next ex-boyfriend.

As I scrolled through the pages and pages of eligible bachelors like a kid in a candy store, I had to take note of the ones who said they werent down for a girl who had a carpet crawler. This narrowed down the field a bit, but surprisingly not to the degree I was expecting it too.

After finding several young men who tickled my fancy, I began the arduous process of flirting, via email. I say arduous, because it actually is more challenging than you might think to find something witty and intelligent to say in order to intrigue one into replying. After sending out a few winks and emails, I signed off, pleased with the evenings progress and excited about the prospect of actual dates coming my way soon.

The next evening I signed on to see how many men wanted to date me now. Much to my dismay, I had no replies from the emails and winks I sent out the night before. A quick investigation showed that while all 4 gentlemen had read my emails and looked at my profile, none of them deemed me worthy to write back. That hurt a smidge, but I figured that meant I had bigger and better things waiting for me.

As the days rolled by I continued to send out virtual flirtations, but sadly received only disgusting advances in return. Heres a sampling, for your reading pleasure:

The first assault to my eyes and principles was from a 37 year old businessman from NY- we shall call him Mr. NY for the remainder of his stay here on the Couch. Mr. NY sent me a very brief but to the point email stating that he is a "businessman from NY" and that he would be in Long Beach next week. The email then went on to say that the purpose for contacting me was to see if I wanted to meet him one or more nights the next week for "...dinner and sex..". He was staying at a nice hotel (who's address he provided) and I could stay there with him for the duration of our association.

How gracious.

I also encountered the bizarre ravings of a guy, who's tagline read: "Alcoholic Seeks Obese Metal Patient". Yes, "Metal Patient". No, thats not a typo- at least not on my part. This fantastic gentleman wrote me a rather presumptuous email and extended a similar invitation as Mr. NY. I really enjoyed his profile full of pictures of himself with strippers in Vegas, and self adoring propaganda riddled with misspellings and incorrectly quoted cliches.

What a catch.

I was almost ready to call this online adventure a complete failure when I received an email from a nice, quiet guy who we shall call Mr. Geritol. Mr. Geritol was 42 years old, never married, and lived in his parent's nursing home with them. He enjoyed walks on the beach and romantic dinners at sunset, and made a special point to note that all the pictures from his profile were indeed recent pictures and not "sexy me 10 years ago" (because let me tell you in case you dont know from experience, the 10 year old, 50 lbs ago photo scam runs rampant in online dating)... All of Mr. Geritol's photos were taken last month on a cruise he took with his 80 something year old parents.

Ahhhh, how nice. (BARF!)

Finally, after deciding perhaps I should fake my own death, as this is the only way match.com will refund your money (No joke folks, check it out in the terms), I received an email that wasnt terrible and demeaning. As I read the email, I was pleasantly surprised with the prospective suitors ability to form basic sentences in a manner that was both logical, but not a complete bore to read either, and made no mention of his rather large male parts or ability to please me with them.

Net-Net: It was a decent email, finally!

After I finished the email, I cautiously clicked on his profile to search for what was really wrong with this guy. After a thorough inspection, I was actually pretty optimistic. Handsome, home owner, stable job (a cop), and seemingly chivalrous but not a total wimp. Holy crap! This one looked promising, so I went ahead and replied to his email.

Over the next two weeks, the cop and I exchanged emails and several phone calls. Finally I sensed it was time to take this to the next level, and almost as if he read my mind, the next email asked me when we could meet. So, we made plans, and a time was set. And guess what? For once I was actually a little bit excited! I know, right?!

As Saturday rolled around, I found myself getting more and more excited at the prospect of going out with someone. It had been so long since Id felt that feeling, that I tried on 3 outfits before finally deciding on jeans, a teal silk top, and black patent leather peep toe pumps. I was filled with school girl anticipation as I drove to the designated meeting place.

My childish glee however waned when I got out of my car and looked around bewildered for my date. We had just hung up the phone only moments before, yet I did not see the tall, blonde, handsome Keeper of the Peace anywhere. I searched the frenzied crowd of rowdy children, annoying teenagers, grumpy geriatrics, and saw only a handful of young(er) men, none of which could possibly be my knight in shining armor.

He must be inside, I thought to myself, as I hurried in, all my high hopes and expectations renewed. My hope was short lived however, as a smarmy looking figure began walking my way, leering salaciously at me. I recoiled to think that this could possibly be my date, and my heart sank when he extended his hand in my general direction. Whatever hope that was waiting in the wings, ready to spring back up from within soul was ruthlessly squelched when he indeed confirmed, "Hi, Im Mike".

Dammit.

"Hi!", I said, forcing a smile.

As I struggled to think of something further to say and a way to disguise my disappointment, a nice young lady rescued me, as she ushered us to our table. As soon as we sat down (and no he didnt even attempt to pull my chair out for me- a legitimate strike!) I began scouring the menu, and Mike began talking about his most recent bust (which was actually a minor traffic violation but whatever). Upon deciding between a couple suitable options, I made an attempt to make witty small talk, and asked my companion why he had not even opened up his menu.

"Youre not going to look at the menu?", I asked, baiting him.

"No, I know what I want", he replied.

"I see, familiar with the menu. Is this where you take all your hot dates?", I said smirking, eagerly anticipating the response such a comment would undoubtedly solicit.

"No.", he began, "I just like really bland food."

This was not the response I was expecting...

"You like bland food?!", I asked in clarification.

"Yeah- no spices, no salt, just plain. I hate mingling food flavors.", he explained.

"Really?!", I asked even more disappointed than before.

Creepy, and dull. What a powerhouse combination.

"Yeah," he continued, "but that should make it pretty easy for you. You wont have to do much for me."

"Huh?!", I said, completely floored by the audacious implication.

"When you cook for me", he said. "I expect a woman to cook for me. But youre lucky- you dont have to do much but make my dinner bland every night".

The absurdity of that statement made me actually laugh out loud.

"Youre funny!", I said, feeling relieved because I mean, he had to be kidding, right?!

"Im serious.", he said sternly.

"Uhhhhhhhh, yeah, not so much cupcake", I replied shaking my head, words dripping with sarcasm.

I figured things would only get worse from this point on, but he continued on as if I had said nothing. Clearly officer Mike was not the sharpest tool in the shed and completely missed my total disdain with his apparent supposition that I would be donning an apron sometime soon and cracking open a bottle of Ragu for him. Oh dont get me wrong, he was definitely a tool... just a very dull, unattractive, and frankly BLAND tool.

As he droned on about the legality of crossing double yellows and passing in an intersection, all I heard was "blah, blah, blah".

Finally, the meal was over, and it was time to go. While he did pay, he informed me I would be paying the next time, and he managed to walk me to my car.

"Well, thanks for lunch", I said.

"Youre welcome", he replied.

Then came the worst of all moments during a date.... the weird awkward time when decisions must be made! Thankfully he didnt try to kiss me, but he gave me the worlds most uncomfortable and awkward hug, and said "See ya".

As I climbed into my car, I heard him shout something across the parking lot that I couldnt quite make out.

"Huh?", I asked.

"WHAT KIND OF PANTIES ARE YOU WEARING RIGHT NOW?", he shouted again. "SO I CAN PROPERLY IMAGINE IT".

Horrified, I sneered back at him in disgust and replied:

"GRANNY PANTIES!"

"High-waisted white cotton ones!"

Needless to say, I did NOT call officer Mike back ever again.

One Year Anniversary

In commemoration for the one year anniversary of the day I walked boldly away from Mark forever, I give you the initial breakthrough....

Oh how different life has been since this day last year!

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Stupid Boy

Current mood: Peaceful

Category: Romance and Relationships

Last week in my small group we talked about the dangers of being a "people pleaser". Now, at first I did not even consider this lesson to be one for myself- I mean, not everything is about ME. I think most of you who really know me well would agree with me on this one... Anyone who has spent time with me knows that for the most part I do my own thing, whether or not its considered the cool thing to do or not.

I mean, lets face it, I dont really give a damn what most people think about me, because, well, at the end of the day it doesnt matter to me that the snooty real housewife of the OC at Starbucks was laughing to her friends that my Chanel sunglasses are "so last season!" ... I will probably never see her again, and if I did, I certainly wont recognize her with her new nose, boobs, and botoxed face anyhow, so what do I care?! I just dont.... Me? A People pleaser? I think not!!
As the rest of the week commenced, I thought a lot about the girls and how their weeks were going also. Thank God I am not struggling with being a people pleaser, I thought. It must be so exhausting!! I mean, I barely have time enough to remember to eat, let alone think about making anyone else happy (other than Luca that is, that is all I do you know).... Then something happened mid-week, something BIG that made me realize I too fall victim to trying to please everyone!

What catastrophic event could have happened to throw my world into utter chaos, and disrupt the space-time continuum as I know it?? (Sigh) What could possibly happen that could be so earth shattering?

Well, Ill tell you....prepare to be shocked, horrified, pissed off, but still laughing at the same time. I think thats how it went for me...ummmmm, yeah, shocked, horrified, pissed off, and then eventual uncontrollable laughter...

Last week, Mark told me I had to marry him so that he can stay in the country.
I KNOW!! Ill give you a moment....

Apparently, when he went down to TJ to do his annual paperwork for his visa (its complicated, and not very interesting, dont ask), they told him this is the last year they would grant it. What that means, is that come April 2008, the US government will make the incorrigible Mr. Gerardi pack his shit and go back to Toronto, from whence he came!!

The only loop hole, at least according to him, is for him to get married. Again, this is a very complicated procedure, which I have myself researched and know to be true for the most part, but its boring, so suffice it to say, marriage is the easiest route to get a Canuck into the states for good. There is another way for him to apply for a green card, but as with most things, this method takes time, money, and commitment on Mark's part, so obviously, thats not something he considers an option.

Now, my immediate reaction was a "youve got to be shitting me" look, followed by a stunned "Really?!", as in, "really, youre seriously asking me this?!". Unblinking, he said "Yes!! Beth youre the only one who can help me, the only one I trust!!". Yes, the only one he trusts. Ill give you a short laughter break, and anyone whos close to pissing their pants, might as well go now, because it gets better....

So the night ended with me not able to say much, and Mark telling me to think about it. Graciously, God allowed me to get through the brief, yet akward conversation without bursting into laughter while tears streamed down my face, and, also without punching him in the face with the nearest heavy blunt object as my gut told me too. Wow, look at that, I am growing as a person!

Luckily he didnt bring IT up again until last night.... This time, I couldnt help it, and did burst out laughing (so much for growing as a person). Then I proceeded to point out that its a friggin riot that he can sit there and look me in the eye with a straight face and tell me how I had to do this for him because there isnt another woman alive that he cares about, or trusts like me. He actually said those words!! Who IS this guy?!

This from the man who last month was whining that he wanted a paternity test because he still isnt convinced that Luca actually is his son. (Of course when I said ok, it was suddenly too expensive to do)....

This from the man who badgered me my entire pregnancy to just admit that I did this on purpose to trap him into marriage or becoming my meal ticket. ...

This from the man who constantly accused me of trying to ruin his life.... (even to this day)

And these words coming from the same man who continually asked me if it was possible that Luca was someone else's baby, because he didnt think it could be his. In retrospect, this probably means he was sleeping around when he wasnt telling me how much he loved me and couldnt wait to have our 7 kids, but thats neither here nor there...

When I told him I wouldnt marry him, he immediately resorted to his primary skill set, manipulation. He was a different person then, hes grown now, he wants to be here now, and he knows he can trust me. Still, I wouldnt budge. Then it went onto how can I sit back and take Luca's father away from him?! I have the power to make this thing ok, and I wont do it because of his past mistakes. I am punishing Luca, because he (Mark) made bad choices when I was pregnant....

The thing that irks me most about the whole situation is that this is a long time coming. Mark knew from the get-go that at any time, he might have to leave. He knew from the beginning that there are certain things that he needed to do to ensure he could stay, but he chose not to do anything about it. Now that this day is upon him, it isnt his fault, its mine if I dont do what he says.... Once again, Mark is the victim.

As I sat and looked at Mark, it struck me at how truly effective he was at the art of manipulation. How sincere he looked, how distraught and anguished he seemed at the thought of having to leave Luca... But what struck me the most this time, as it had not all the times before, is that this was the same face, same sad eyes of a seemingly sorry and broken man asking for forgiveness, as the man who told me all those lies about everything while I was pregnant, in hopes that Id agree to abort our child....

The same face I see every time I call him on the fact that he has lied about something, or once again failed to follow through on something as small as buying his child a box of diapers. "Beth, I dont know what to say, Im sorry and I am doing the best that I can- Im sorry that it isnt good enough for you".... I sat and watched him put on his best "feel sorry for me", or "its not easy being Mark" routine.

And it just struck me how the lies flowed off his tongue smooth and sweet as honey, as he looked so forlornly into my eyes.... It was so easy for him to do. As I stared back into that same face that used to break my heart, and make me feel horribly bad for how things were working out for him, something happened.....

Suddenly, it was as if time stopped, and for the first time I saw clearly with my heart what my head had already known for a long time- this was the face of manipulation, and this is who he truly is. While I am sure he will miss his son, the main reason he wants to stay is for himself. He doesnt want to grow up, and if he goes home, he will have too. Its not ok for him to behave like a college kid in Toronto, because no one else does at 33. No one else lives in an apartment with their best friend, drinking and smoking away their paychecks, floating from one meaningless fling to another.... In Toronto, he would have to be responsible, and thats something he is not ready to face. In Toronto, they will look down on him for his unwillingness to be a more involved father. They will chastise him for that fact that he does not really resemble a man, hes still just acting like a stupid boy.

This time, things were different inside me, and, this time it was easy to say no... All the old feelings of guilt I have wrestled with ever since I found out I was pregnant were gone. All the uncertainty and burden I have carried on my shoulders in having him in my life.... All the responsibility I have felt in making sure that things are easy on him so that he will want to see his son and be more a part of his life, came crashing down. In that instant, it was as if someone threw a hammer through my window, and for the first time in a long while, I could see the light of day, and how truly dark it was where I had been living.

While it is a truly liberating feeling, its also chilling to realize that I have been killing myself trying to please someone who will never be satisfied. Nothing I do ever does make him happy- he always has some kind of complaint about something.

Everything he does is purely driven by selfish reasons- everything. He would rather take our child to someone who isnt taking good care of him, whom we know now isnt licensed, all because then he doesnt have to get off the freeway (his chief complaint with our current nanny). This is the same man who preferred not to go see his own mother in Toronto after she had a stroke, because of how it made him feel to see her like that. A man who left all the planning and burden on his family, eventhough they pleaded with him to come, all because it made him uncomfortable. The stark realization has been that everything is always about him, and how it will affect him, before he even considers anyone else.

And sadly, while this is something I have known forever in my head, it has taken nearly 2 1/2 years for it to get all the way through, and for me to finally grasp it. Ashamedly I see now that I have told myself for so long that its ok if he pushes me around and my life is made to come second… Its ok because its for my child, and my sacrifice now will make his father come around... For 2 1/2 years, I have bent over backwards for someone else, who couldn't care less about my efforts, let alone appreciate them.... if that isnt being a people pleaser, I dont know what is!

But, the good news in all this, is I am finally aware of it, and I can make a change. I dont have to carry around a sense of responsibility for what Mark does and does not do any longer, because its not my burden to bear. While its sad to think about, I know I cannot make him want to do better by his son.

The only consolation I have is in knowing that Luca is so loved by everyone in his life. Everyone who meets or hears about him, loves him too, and I know he is a special child who was meant to be here. In a lot of ways, I dont even know that it really makes a difference right now if Mark is around or not. I know I would be a lot less stressed, and it would make it easier to just focus on doing whats best for Luca, which includes, finally taking care of myself..

Maybe some day Mark will come around, but for now, Im afraid he is nothing more than just a stupid boy.... and frankly, I dont have the time to try to make a stupid boy behave or want to do whats right....

I am much to busy living my life, and trying to raise a MAN.

"Stupid Boy" by Keith Urban

Well, she was precious like a flower

She grew wild, wild but innocent

A perfect prayer in a desperate hour

She was everything beautiful and different

Stupid boy, you can't fence that in

Stupid boy, it's like holding back the wind

She laid her heart and soul right in your hands

And you stole her every dream and you crushed her plans

She never even knew she had a choice and that's what happens

When the only voice she hears is telling her she can't

Stupid boy, stupid boy

So what made you think you could take a life

And just push it, push it around

I guess you build yourself up so high

You had to take her and break her down

She laid her heart and soul right in your hands

And you stole her every dream and you crushed her plans

She never even knew she had a choice and that's what happens

When the only voice she hears is telling her she can't

You stupid boy

It took awhile for her to figure out she could run

But when she did, she was long gone

Long gone, long gone

Ah, she's gone

Mr. Soggy Bottoms

So I know what you all are thinking: this is going to be a post about poop, or some other bodily function related antidote, hopefully relating to Luca....

Well guess what?

Youre wrong.

The category of tonight's post (as they are categorized on myspace where this blog originally started) is "Romance and Relationships", and Mr. Soggy Bottoms is a guy Ive gone out with recently. That being said, this should entice you to read on, because knowing how my life goes, it very possibly could be about my latest dating exploit and poo...

Ewwww.

No, theres no poop involved (sorry Taylor), but it does raise an important question, which I will get to shortly.

The last few weeks I have been keeping company of a new guy. I know most of you are scratching your heads because I havent mentioned it, or because you havent heard from me in so long you were beginning to consider the possibility that I have in fact died- but the truth is I have just been so busy with the new job and stuff that I have been a crappy friend lately.

Sorry.

Is it just me, or has anyone noticed lately that every person you know who isnt already married is getting hitched? Daisy and I were talking about that yesterday because yet another singleton weve known for a while just got married. And, the interesting trend that we have noticed is that all of people seem to have met their significant other at the newest singles hot spot, Starbucks.


With this is mind, I have made a point to make sure that I have already applied my lipstick before entering the Mecca of caffeinated goodness, just in case... Am I looking to get married tomorrow? Nahhhh.... But, I wouldnt be opposed to meeting someone fantastic who makes me happy enough to make others sick.


Anyhow, a few weeks ago I stopped into my friendly local Starbucks to grab a reduced fat turkey bacon sandwich and a coffee light frap with sugar free vanilla to reward myself for making it to Friday, and something happened. Maybe it was because I had just heard from one incredibly happy Starbucks-matched-married, or perhaps it was merely because no one had emailed me yet that morning, but for once, in the midst of my usual morning quest to caffeinate and get to work on time, I noticed someone noticing me. Standing a mere 5 feet away from me I noticed a nice looking guy, smiling at me, Blackberry in hand.

"I cant decide which is more addicting, Starbucks, or the CrackBerry", he said to me.

"Crackberry", I answered immediately.

A pleasant little conversation was had, business cards were exchanged, and the following Monday a casual after work drink was organized.

And, while Im making little observations, Ive noticed that the casual after work drink seems to be the new first date. Or, perhaps, its just the way grown ups do things. Good God, am I a grown up now?!

Anyhow, the after work drink is a nice idea because it can be anything you want. You have an easy out, such as "this was fun, but now Ive got to pick up my kid", or it can turn into dinner and other merriment. On this specific occasion, I did have to in fact, pick Luca up, so it was only a casual after work drink, and I was so strapped for time I didnt even bother to change into jeans in the back of the Jeep like I did the last time I had one of these. I simply met him at Happy Hour and we talked and had a few drinks one evening.

The conversation was fun, and flowed easily, and as he walked me out to my car, he asked the all important question of "Can I see you again?". Seeing as I had a pleasant time, and he seemed to be nice, successful, and not in the least bit creepy, I said ok. Throughout the week, my Starbucks date called me a few times, and we made plans to go out on an actual date later that week.

The first date was actually a lot of fun. We met for coffee and ended up sitting all night there debating when exactly Pearl Jam stopped being a great band, and a lot of other really important issues of the like. With this smashing success of an evening wrapping up, I happily accepted the offer of a "real" date that weekend.

As the weekend approached, I was actually a bit excited to have real plans to go out on a date. I met my new friend down in Laguna near the beach, and we had dinner at a little Italian restaurant. And, he brought me a rose! Kinda cheesy, but clearly he had put at least 15 minutes of thought into this before hastily leaving the house that night, and I appreciated the effort.

The food was great, and so was the wine. The conversation was fun and light, and the evening ended with the much cliched walk on the beach. Being that this was our second "real" date, and given the fact that we were walking and talking on the beach after consuming Italian food and wine, there was kissing. It should have been a perfect evening...

I say "should" however because the kissing left a little to be desired...

At the time I chalked it up to a combination of my being cold, the wine, and nerves on his part. I swear it mustve taken 20 minutes of awkwardness before I finally asked him if he was planning on ever going in for the kiss or if we would have to stand out in the sand until the break of dawn. I guess I couldve just done it myself, but really thats his job. Or maybe more truthfully I just enjoy watching guys flounder. Hahahahaha! Yeah, ok, Im not gonna lie- thats it.

What can I say?! (shrugging shoulders, smirking)

Soon after the soggy lip-lock session ended, we went out separate ways. As I got into my car, I cursed the fact that the bottom of my jeans had gotten wet because it was making me so much more cold. This of course led me to think of "Soggy Bottoms", and then instantly laugh out loud to myself as I applied this term to the slightly bumbling end of my night. "Mr. Soggy Bottoms is right", I thought to myself as I recalled how sloppy and literally soggy the kissing had been. At least it was a nice night, I thought surely the next time it would be better.

The next day I got a phone call from an excited Mr. Soggy Bottoms, who obviously thought the date and its ending went smashingly. I didnt take the call simply because I was too busy tending to Luca and visiting with my recently widowed Grandma to take any time out and chit chat. I will just give him a call back Sunday night, I thought to myself.

Monday morning came, and my life proceeded as usual, or so I thought. As I waited inwardly inpatient and half asleep for the barista to make my coffee, I had little else on my mind besides getting my frosty caffeinated salvation into my system, and my ass into work. Lost in thought, I went through my mental checklist of what I needed to do when I got in, but was suddenly jolted back to reality by a rude intrusion. No, this intrusion was not the deep gruff bark of the manly lesbian barista letting me know my coffee light frap was ready, it was a hug!

It took me a few seconds to put together what had just gone down, but when I realized it was my match made in Starbucks Heaven, I was actually pretty annoyed. It was early, I hadnt had my coffee yet, and we are not engaged buddy! It struck me as odd that Mr. Soggy Bottoms did not seem to detect in the slightest the fact that I wasnt right there with him on this early morning love fest. He merely stood there with his arm around me, smiling, and then said:

"Why didnt you call me back this weekend?"

"Sorry", I told him, and then went on to explain I had been busy, and Sunday was a holiday (Easter)...

Two minutes later, my coffee was ready, and I was out the door and on my way.

After what seemed like a weeks, it was finally lunch time, and I had all but forgotten the weirdness earlier that morning at Starbucks. As I went to meet my sister for lunch at Corner Bakery, I read my email (courtesy of my Crackberry) and felt little hesitation as I accepted a dinner invite from Mr. Soggy Bottoms for the next night. I guess I reasoned that so far it had been amusing, so going out with him again would at least be more fun than spending my night off(from Luca and ultimate responsibility) sitting at home.

Tuesday was excruciatingly horrid all the way around, and I was more than ready for a drink by noon, errrr, end of business! Thankfully it was indeed my night off, and I was able to blow off some steam with my favorite boyfriend GYM, before getting ready to go out with Mr. Soggy Bottoms. I realized as I ran that I really should probably stop calling him "Mr. Soggy Bottoms" in my internal monologue, but conceded it was quite enjoyable, and knowing me, I wouldnt give it up. Besides, I couldnt get the thought of soggy jeans and soggy sloppy kisses out of my mind...

Hmmmm....

Heres hoping to a less soggy evening I thought!

This time we went to dinner at a nice trendy restaurant, and had a really fun time. All of my previous reservations had dissipated as I thought to myself how silly I felt for almost convincing myself to write this guy off. Not only is he a gentleman and easy on the eyes, but hes funny, and thats devastatingly attractive to me. Thank God hes not the creative type (or artist of any kind)- thats my kryptonite!! This is a good thing, I said to myself. As we walked out to my car, I was excited, convinced that this time things would be different, and I could banish the Mr. Soggy Bottoms moniker.

(Deep sigh)

(shaking head)

While I had convinced myself I would be having that wonderful, playful, passionate goodnight kiss I had been anticipating, I was instead assaulted once again by a soggy, sloppy, very unsexy calamity, parading (and poorly might I add) as a kiss. I actually just shuddered recounting the experience for you all!

It was TERRIBLE!! Like something from the sea washed up on his face and was attacking me! Just really NOT GOOD!

Devastated as I drove home, I began to ponder if it could really work out. I mean, how can you seriously date someone you dread kissing? I was completely bummed out because I had just convinced myself that I actually did like this guy. But now.... (shuddering)

The next morning I purposely went to a different Starbucks. Monday's experience, coupled with the quandary the previous nights ending had incited, I decided it was better to not deal with any more sneak affection attacks. After all, last time it was a hug, this time he might try to kiss me, and I dont know that I could take it. Even the frosty delectable coffee vanilla goodness might not be able to wash away the sandy, salty, mushy carnage such an event could inflict upon my day, and ultimately my senses. Thankfully I got out of the strange Starbucks without incident, my CFL 2PSFV in hand.

As I made my way to the office, I dialed Daisy. I definitely needed her input on this situation to see if perhaps I was being petty. I didnt think so, but sometimes you dont know because you are in the midst of the situation, and hey, thats what best friends are for!

"Good morning Elizabeth!!", she said cheerfully in a silly voice.

Instantly she could tell I was not in the best of spirits.

"Uh oh, whats the matter?!", she said, chuckling, as if she knew it was going to be something of a humorous nature.

Exasperated, I explained the entire situation to her, and waited for her to process the information.

"DUMP HIM", she said almost instantly.

"Dump him?", I asked?

"Its not like hes my boyfriend or anything", I continued, still taken a back a bit by how abrupt her verdict seemed to be.

"Good, then its going to be easy", she said matter of factly. "Life is too short Elizabeth. Youd tell me the same".

"Maybe..", I started.

"Of course you would. Remember Danny?", she retorted.

"But that was different", I started to say... ready to defend myself because just for the record, that was a really different situation...

"Not really, but fine. I have two words for you: SAM ADAMS", she said bluntly.

"Oh, now why do you have to go and bring HIM up?!", I whined, suddenly very irked by the mention of that fiasco.

"Because, you know this is just like THAT- so end it before it gets to that point", she said.

"I guess you really cant find happiness at Starbucks", I said dejected.

"Sure you can, its called a tall coffee light frappuccino. They only have 90 calories!", Daisy exclaimed triumphantly.

Of course she is right, but as I already said, thats what your best friend is there for- to hit you upside the head every now and then.

Tonight when he called, I knew Daisy was right, so I let him know that he is very nice, but I am getting back with my ex, and for the sake of our son, I wanted to give it a try. Of course he understood, because after all he is a nice guy.

Do I feel bad? Nope. I am liberated! I can go back to my normal Starbucks without fear of being hit in the face with a fish.

Life is good.

Across the Universe

Sadly, I am uninspired... and I feel utterly lost.

There are several deep questions I am mulling over at the moment, and have been sitting here trying to write, but for some reason the words will not flow...

Why is it that at the time when writing these swirling thoughts down in some type of medium would help me the most, I cannot seem to find the words? I could easily have the conversation with any of you at this very moment, should we happen to speak, but as I try to convey these thoughts into sentences....I cant....

I know, I am as shocked as you are...Beth is unable to grace us all with her opinions and granules of wisdom...write the date down...

And, whats even worse, not only can I not seem to put into words these thoughts, I also cannot stop from having the conversations about these things, with myself....inside my own head....

I am exhausted, but I cannot make myself go to bed. All I want to do is sleep, but my mind will not shut down. It continues to ask the same questions over and over, desperately grasping for some semblance of order and clarity...

Why keep picking from the pile?
Why ask why?!
Why NOT?!
Why did everyone on the SS Minnow pack so much crap for a 3 hour cruise?!

All fabulous questions, to which I have equally well-thought-out, compelling arguments for...but for some reason a complete and utter inability to express said well-thought-out, compelling answers, in a clear, concise manner...

While you look at the above questions and chuckle to yourself wondering what the hell kind of questions those are, and what quirky answers I will come up with to try to be clever, these are serious questions. And while they also seem completely random, they are in fact all different components of the same stream of conscious thought. Seriously, these are real and big questions and not whimsical or non-sensical ravings of a lunatic (or exhausted, you be the judge) mind...

Perhaps tomorrow I will have the ability to convey the answer to these burning questions....tonight I can only sit and feel helplessly tormented by the melancholy veil cast over my heart at the moment...

I can only sit and cry and wish I could put into words the colors and sounds and feelings that are trapped inside my chest, welling up and threatening to drown me....

Some people paint, some people sculpt, some people make music to express the things inside of them...I write...but I cant at the moment...and it makes me desperately sad....

I guess its a good thing it is raining right now, then no one can see that I am crying, because that is an expression of weakness, and I am always the one who is able to remain strong.

Crying is a healthy expression of vulnerability and humanity- I fully support you in it..... I however....I choose not to indulge in it because I am able to accept that life just sucks sometimes and I am good at handling adversity... I do not crack under pressure, but thrive under it.
Adapt and overcome.

Climb out of the pile, because whining is a waste of energy.

Wasting energy is not efficient.

Inefficient tactics are not a logical solution to any problem.

I am strong.

I always have been.

And not because I necessarily want to (or have wanted to), for reasons of pride or self-importance, but because perhaps I have lived my whole life not knowing any other way to be.

Falling apart has never been an option or luxury afforded to me.

Bold statements?

Truth.

Truth?

Perhaps weakness is just a luxury I have never afforded myself...

Sadly, all I can do tonight is cry and watch the colors, shapes, and melodies dance around my room, taunting me to reach out and take hold of them before they slip and slither away across the universe...

My paint brush does not work...my paints are all dry...

My clay has hardened...

My guitar has no strings...

Perhaps I really am drowning, and these tears are just the overflow escaping out of the windows to my soul...

Personally, I dont want to get up to look and check, so I think I the best thing for me to do is just turn the computer off and try to get in my 3 hours of sleep for today...