Maybe?

So the bitch put one in the grave and one in jail. Maybe she's done trying to destroy our family. Maybe, but I doubt it. There really isn't much else she can do, I guess. But worthless pieces of white trash drama queens can always find ways to destroy those around them.

Four years, two years suspended, including time under house arrest the total is 11 months and a few days.

Death by suicide, shot to the chest. Missed his heart, bled to death. Found three days later by my parents.

Bad Mamaw also has congenial heart failure, along with the renal failure. Don't know how much longer she will be around.

All of these are creating some really intense, mixed feelings within me. I don't quite know how to handle any of them. They aren't in the front of my mind all day long, but I would be lying if I said I didn't think about one of the three at least once a day.

I know karma is a bitch. I know that as a fact. I've seen it happen, and had it happen to me, far too many times to discount it. What you put out, you get back threefold.

But it just seems to me that in some cases, karma never finds the ones it needs to find. Or maybe I am selfish in wanting to be there when it does happen. Not being able to see it doesn't make up for anything. I want to see her karma come back. But I don't think I ever will. I don't live near her. I don't see her or speak to her. I only know of things about her that involve my family, and that, hopefully, is over. She has no reason to be a part of our lives anymore, and that is a good thing. But, it makes not seeing her get what she has coming to her, karmically, really difficult. I guess I just have to have faith that it will all come around. There are too many good people that have really bad things happen to them to have her running around, guilty as hell of murder, and not having anything happen in return.

Maybe having her completely out of our lives is the best we can do. Having us not give a shit about her whatsoever, when all she wants and craves is drama and attention, is the best revenge. But damnit, I just want her to have one moment, one eye opening moment, where she can see all the damage, pain and destruction she has caused. All of her lies to be exposed to the right people. I just want something I can never have. And it's not my place to dish it out.

So many conflicting emotions right now. I thought I had dealt with so much of it. But there are moments where things pop up and when they do, it's like getting hit by a truck. That's the worst. When I was neck deep in grief for Mike, I knew and expected those feelings to be there, and they were there constantly. They never went away. And gradually, they did. I actually became physically healthy and improved my mental health directly after his death. Biking and doing yoga, cleaning out the clutter that was consuming both my apartment and life, all of those were ways I worked through the grief.

And now, I'm not in it as deeply. I have moved on to much bigger and better things. But every once in awhile, when my eyes are closed for a brief moment, it all comes rushing back. The manic phone call that Monday morning. Getting run off the road by a semi on my way to my dead uncle and the false thought that he blamed us in his note. Seeing him in the coffin, looking plastic and seeing where they stuffed his chest to make it appear to not be sunken in. They did a great job with what they had to work with, and a body lying in 78 degree heat for three days doesn't leave much to work with. The disbelief. The note, re-read hundreds of times trying to figure out what was going on in his head moments before he pulled the trigger. Memories of the last Christmas where I was mean to him and that part of me thinking, "if I had only been nicer, told him I loved him, maybe he wouldn't have done it", knowing full well he still would have. Amy's dream a month before, where she told me at Christmas that she saw him shoot himself in the head. The dream I had that morning I got the call where I was shot. All of those things come crashing in at any given moment. And I can't control them, nor am I ready for them.

Then, the whole James situation. In every situation, it is easier to place blame on someone, and it's needed sometimes to get through things. But who do I lay the blame on for this royal fuckup? Mike? Grandad? James? The ancestors generations before who were abusive? There is a chain of command that goes back much futher than I've been alive and in times like this, I need to pinpoint it to something and I can't. There is nothing to pinpoint, no one to point that finger to and make it seem okay. Even blaming her completely isn't right, and a rational part of me knows that. But I do know she was the catalyst. She was the fucking timer on the bomb. As sure as I know I am sitting here in my bathrobe, drinking milk and typing, she pulled that trigger. And she launched the lawsuit. She needs to be held accountable for what happened, and she's just not. She is walking away without a single thought. And we have to deal with the destruction she left in her path. Her white trash, disgusting, whorish path.

But all I can do, all I can ever do, is sit on it and deal. Deal with it. Get over it as much as I can. But what family I had has changed forever. And my idea of family has changed as well. And sometimes it's just not so easy to deal with.

Dr. Feelgood

So yesterday I was feeling all shades of shitty....stuffy and runny nose, sneezing, a bit of the lightheadedness and wishing I could sleep. I took some Claratin at work and it really didn't do much. Didn't know if it was just that that particular medicine doesn't work for me and it really was allergies, or I was getting sick.

So....came home and took matters into my own hands. And wanted to share if anyone is interested in possibly healing thyself.....

In case it was allergies, I did the following: chewed a large chunk of honeycomb. Bees collect pollen to make honey, right, and the pollen is strongest in the honeycomb. Something about eating pollen helps to block airborne pollen....it's like getting a vaccine. Although it doesn't last as long.

Then, I took two flash freeze dried stinging Nettle capsules. Again, there is something in the nettle that acts as a vaccine against airborne allergines.

Finally, I took some Sabadil. It's a homeopathic anti-allergy medicine that worked really well for Steve when his allergies were flaring big time last summer.

But still not sure if it was allergies or an actual cold, I prepared for both.

For a cold: I made some pasta. Yep, easy. In the sauce, I put three heaping tablespoons of minced garlic and added olive oil infused with garlic oil. It was nothing but garlic. It helps to build the immune system and just the smell alone helps to clear up nasal passages.

Then, my favorite: this is actually a homemade cough syrup/sore throat syrup. Take about a clove of garlic, or a tablespoon of minced garlic, and put it in the bottom of a small dish. Cover the garlic completely with honey. In a few hours there will be a clear liquid that rises to the top of the honey. Tip the container and try to get as much of the clear liquid on a spoon as you can. Drink up. That clears the sinuses, the honey soothes the throat, and drinking an infusion of pure garlic and honey helps to surpress coughs.

As I went to bed, I drank a shitload of water, took a vitamin C pill and a regular vitamin.

This morning, there is still a bit of stuff going on in the nose, but nothing compared to what it was yesterday. So, I will continue this all again today and see how that treats me.

It's amazing the things you learn about treating colds and allergies when you are poor, have no health insurance and not enough money to keep buying over the counter remedies. And, with all of these things, there are no mediciny-type side effects, no drowsiness, and no fear of drug interaction. Love it.

And garlic just tastes damn good!

I love the sky about ten minutes before it rains.

I love the smell of cold rain on hot asphalt.

I love the gentle pounding of drops hitting my shoulders and hair.

Revisiting an old friend

So, Steve and I had a discussion last night about our feelings regarding movies made from Stephen King's novels. I told him my apprehension about watching "The Stand" mini series because The Stand is a book that you don't really read, you dive into and live. It's so long, it's really an investment. Then I had to explain why I like "Misery" and "Carrie", and even "IT". I had a HUGE crush on Jonathan Brandis when I was younger, and have always loved Tim Curry. And, when it first came out, I think I saw the movie before I read the book, or at least shortly after. Both Carrie and Misery were books that didn't require the commitment that The Stand required, and in fact, I read Carrie in a day when I was in 7th grade. It was my first King novel, and the start of an amazing love affair with the man's work.

Now, the movie that pisses me off the most is "Dolores Claiborne". The entire point of the entire book was completely lost in the movie. Selena, Dolores' daughter, doesn't come in and save the day as she does in the movie.....the whole damn point of the book is that it is a narration coming directly from Dolores' mouth. There are quotes that she says from other people, but she is the only voice in the entire book. Her voice gives life to the other characters, and that is part of what makes it such a wonderful book, in my opinion. Because even though she gives life to the people around her, it's still her voice. You can hear her imitating those around her, but it's still her words. She goes in to confess murdering her husband and clearing her name from Vera Donovan's death. The whole damn book is a confession and why she did the things she did.

The movie, on the other hand, has her daughter coming in from New York and being told things that happened to her, not caring about her mother, and finally saving the day. That takes all the strength from Dolores. She is nothing but an old woman who made a mistake and who raised a daughter who grew to hate her, focusing on the daughter's problems almost as much if not more than Dolores'.

That pisses me off to no end.

Many people have claimed that King couldn't write a realistic female character to save his life, and there are moments where his women come off as not quite right. But then again, this coming from a writer who convinces you that there are evil clowns living in sewers and a shop can give you all you have ever dreamed of getting. And hitting your head on ice gives you the power to see the future. For all of that, I have always forgiven him for not always creating very realistic women. Hell, he takes things that have no chance in hell of being realistic and makes them creep under your skin until you're checking under the bed for boogie men and making sure you bury your loved ones in a proper place, to ensure they don't come back. Because we all know, "sometimes dead is better."

Now, why the sudden anger at this god-awful movie? I just saw it the other day, the same day I watched "The Butterfly Effect" to be exact, and knew that there were things that just weren't right about it. But it had been years since I read it. So, I decided to hop on a brain flight and head on over to an island in Maine and revisit that old friend who, for whatever reason, causes a reaction in me unlike many other characters.

I finished the book in two days, and that is a long time, considering I usually start and finish it within an afternoon. I love books that you are able to do that with. And the more I read and realized just what kind of woman Dolores was, the more angry I got that she was bastardized on the big screen.

This woman has power. She has strength. She has an amazing ability to put things into words that many women feel, or know women who have felt that way, and she makes them understandable to those of us who may not have had similar experiences.

She is a damn solid character, and you love her throughout it all. You love her more and more, as a good character will let you, and you want her to be happy. All the while she is describing how she killed her husband, you want her to walk away from it all. You want her to be happy and live a wonderful life. She deserves it.

In the movie, you want her to have a great life because, well, she's really Kathy Bates. She is played out to be the victim, the one who had no choice in her life and had no other way out.

And, let's not forget that there are a total of four children, SO important to the story, that are non-existent. Dolores didn't just have one daughter....she had two boys as well. And Vera had two children who are never mentioned at all. And all four of those children would have added to the movie in wonderful ways, instead of focusing on fucking Jennifer Jason Leigh and her mental anguish and denial turned self abuse. Not seeing, or being told, the exact way her guilt manifested itself led to a much more powerful image in the book than watching her cut herself or rely on pills to get through the day. That angers me. And, the things she had to feel guilty about, which of COURSE were not her fault, happened to her at a much younger age in the movie, and Selena blocked it out and had no memory of it. That's simply not true either. She remembered every moment of it, and was older.

There are just so many things in the movie that make me sad. And I am one of the few, the proud, that believe remakes of movies is a cop out and destroys the intention of the original. However, this is a movie that NEEDS to be remade, and remade with the integrity of the characters in place. Barring a few details and quotes straight from the book, I have no idea how they could even use her name in the movie it was so off base.

So for all of you who never read the book but saw the movie, take heart: Dolores Claiborne is one of those women who gets into your soul and doesn't really let go. She is not the woman on the screen, having her daughter take over everything. She IS strength, she IS power. She is what we all want to be, deep down, even though none of us would want to live in her situation.

That is all.

Some reason

Okay, I have to understand that there is some reason it has taken me this damn long to find a job. I have confirmation that two of the three people I interviewed with at the Hyatt really liked me, and I'm just waiting to hear about the third one. And I was told they would try to get me in on Monday, today, to start training. But it's after 3 and I haven't heard anything yet. I really hope I got it.

I think I know why Kelly never called me back. I messed up so much on that application, on my computer tests and realized I gave them my resume with my new last name, not telling them that to check for references, they would need to use my middle name. And I never heard from them at all.

I haven't heard anything at all from Debra either. She was going to present me to a possible job in Arlington Heights and to a law firm, but I didn't get a call about either position. I guess that's a blessing, especially if I do get this job at the Hyatt. Then I won't have to say, "Sorry, I already got a job" because, even though I haven't heard anything, I would still feel bad in a weird sort of way.

I'm just anxious. Just nervous and excited at the same time, and it's never something I handle well. Wanting to know something eats at me. And I'm excited to be bringing money into this relationship in some form other than student loans or a part time gig.

I know my background check came back just fine, because I have nothing on my record at all. And I already asked.....they don't check parking tickets! So I should be just fine.

I know they're busy, but I just need to know if I got it or not. Even if they don't get me in today or tomorrow, just knowing I got it will release some tension that has been building up......and I don't know that I can handle one more job where I think I have it, only to not hear anything at all.

I'm just freaking out and need to calm myself. It will all work out. There are reasons for everything, and I have to hold on to that thinking.

Yes

Now that I think about it, I guess the sauce for the calamari DOES smell a bit like vagina.

The Butterfly Effect

So today was a day of Stephen King movies on some movie channel. I was all excited, because they were showing two that I don't own...."Dolores Claiborne" and "Christine". Both books are excellent, and both movies could never do the books justice. But they rarely ever do.

I fell asleep during "Christine" and woke up to a phone call from mom. She gave me some news about the family and decisions that were made, which are neither here nor there.

While talking to her, "The Butterfly Effect" came on. Now, I've never seen the movie. The only reason I started paying any attention to it was because Ethan Suplee was in it as a punk rocker. I paused it at that scene, finished up with mom and watched the rest of it.

I missed the first third or so of it. It's not a wonderful movie. It's not even really a great movie. But the theme of it, going back in time and changing things done wrong, strikes a chord with everyone. They chose a really good premise to get the audience to understand the basic meaning.

And it has made me think. There were so many years that I wish I could have gone back and changed things, made different decisions, choices and moves. Of course, going back with what I know now. And then the time came when I realized it all happened for a reason. And it made me who I am. And I don't want to change that.

But, that feeling came up again. It was like seeing an old friend that you clung to in really bad times. That feeling of regret, wishing things could be different. Wanting to change the past. As with many things I've let go of, when I'm in the right frame of mind (or put there by a movie, for instance) that feeling comes back. The things released have an uncanny way of trying to come back, putting a bright gloss on what they really are to make you fall back to them again.

My regret over things done in my past were glossed over with pretty wrapping, trying to soothe me into falling right back into it. My regret wanted me back. It tried all it could to get at my soul, reminding me of all the things I've done to myself that have hurt my family and friends. All the things done to my soul by others that could have made me a much happier person. Reliving life with the knowledge I have now is, I must admit, very attractive. Righting the wrongs. Getting myself on track much earlier in life. Straightening out those things that were crooked and swollen. Getting rid of those who were toxic, or not even having them in the first place.

But if the movie did all that, it also did much more. Each time he went back to make things better, the outcome changed for all involved. And each time, some were better off, some were horribly worse off. He just kept hurting the ones that he loved in his attempt to make it all better.

The movie made me realize, once and for all, that there is nothing I would do over. Nothing. Those things that I think would make me a better person if they were different would have only made me a different person, not a better one. I wouldn't have who I have in my life now. I wouldn't be where I am now. I would be a really bad replica of who I am.

I'm glad there is no chance to go back, because in my youth I would have relived things over and over again until they were "right". I would have made sure that things worked out for the best for me and those I loved, but I would have never had a future. I would have spent all my time in the past, correcting it and reliving it.

The lingering sadness I feel at this moment is finally, once and for all, saying goodbye to my old friend regret. When you live with something for what seems to be your entire life, saying goodbye is very difficult. But I'm finally ready. I talk about not having regrets and not wanting to change anything, blah blah blah. But that was me trying to reassure myself that I felt that way. Thinking the more I said it or wrote it in surveys on MySpace the more I would belive it. The more it would become truth. The more it would become my reality.

But now it is. Letting go of something that seems comforting when it is really destructive is so difficult. It leaves a hole. There is no other way to describe it. There is a hole. In the pit of my stomach. And I know it will be filled with love and happiness in a matter of mere moments, but right now, it is dark and empty. I felt the same emptiness when I forgave Brandi for what she did to me those years ago. I felt it when I forgave myself about the baby. I felt it when I finally realized my praying to "God" for Pap to die to end his misery didn't really kill him.

And it's back. Hell, the empty hole in my stomach is an old friend, popping by to say hello and make me remember what it is to forgive and move on. An old friend with razor arms and a boiling chest. Hollow eyes and a smell of death. But the friend that I clung to for so many years because it was familiar, it was known. And there is comfort to be had in holding on to something that creates the cycle of dependence. The more you rely on it, the more you have to have it. And the more you want it.




I have different classifications of "favorite" movies. The ones that I loved as a child that take me back to those feelings, the ones that are so horrible that they are wonderful, the ones that always, no matter how much I have memorized, make me laugh. The ones that remind me of certain times in my life. The ones that make me think. The ones that make me change.

"The Butterfly Effect" is now one of those favorites. Not because it's a good movie. Not because of stellar acting. Not for the special effects. But for the simple fact that it has occupied my entire brain since watching it. It has put on celluloid the grave truth behind the wishing...it shows what could really happen if we had the power to go back.

It helped me release something that I thought was gone. And now it really is.

I would like to say I will miss you, regret. I would like to say that you are welcome back at any time. I would like to say all those things......but I don't mean them. Get the fuck away from me. You are no longer needed. There is no place for you in my life anymore. You had your fun with me, and now I'm done. Too many years wasted in your razor arms.

In fact, you do not even exist any more. There is no point in writing more. You are done.

Time for that long story

Okay, so the reason for my bike's name.....

I was going to buy the bike when I worked at the bike shop. Amazing deal on it. A messenger left it after having some repairs done on it. Over a year, and he never claimed it. To make up for the loss in the shop, they sold me the bike for the amount of repairs he had done.

This was all going to happen after I got my student loan check in January. The third week in January, to be exact.

The second week of January is when Mike killed himself. Once the shock subsided, the grief process took over. And I bought my bike.

For those who may not know or haven't experienced it, the grief stages can come and go, differ in intensity and frequency....basically, you could be diagnosed with intense manic depression and multiple personality disorders, all in the name of grief.

When I got the bike, I knew I needed a name for it. And I knew that name would come to me if I let it. I was locking it up in the apartment one day after a long ride, and was thinking to myself how if I were manic depressive, they would label me a rapid cycler, since I was going through all the stages in quick firing time. Then it hit me....my bike is my rapid cycle. Since it got me through the grief. It rode me through the really bad times. It helped me save my sanity.

My bikes have all been named after times in my life. My first bike as a young pre-teen was my Menstral Cycle. Then my Bi-Cycle for my college days. Now, my Rapid Cycle.

That's the story.