Words Hounding a Page

I haven’t been too chatty lately. For the past week I felt I was losing my rockers. My Dad is having a quadruple by-pass, tomorrow they say it will be now. It was going to be Monday then he had some more heart attacks and they had him on a nitro drip. So then it was going to be today but now I hear it will be tomorrow. They told him he had 80% blockage. You don’t get that by living sensibly. Is it cruel and insensitive to say he deserved it? I am his daughter. Who can be cruel and insensitive if not your daughter?

He has always been stupid about his health. He eats garbage and he loves to yell and spaz at us. It’s definitely cruel to say that some part of me is saying “nah, nah, nah” all the time in the back of my mind. I once wrote about calling the men in your lives ‘bastard!’ and I know I was thinking of him as much as my ex-husband. I’m not sure who I was angrier at then. Now the ex is fading into the past. But, my Dad is always lurking around. Ready to snap at me, blame me, tell me what a loser I am. Anyway, nah nah nah! Bastard.

Yes, it’s horribly rude, cruel and disgraceful of me. But, there you go. I never aspired to perfection. Being perfect would be boring and lonely and far too much work. So I will happily be imperfect and partially messed up.

I can live with it.

He might die. We don’t know anything for sure. I don’t wish for him to die. But I admit I do like the idea that he is going to get a little misery back for all he has inputted all these years. I wonder what will happen next time he tries a spaz attack. Usually his eyes bug out, his face turns red then purplish and his voice blows hot wind over your general environment. Pollution, the pollution of years of violence suspended. No, he seldom hit me or us. But the verbal abuse was more than enough pollution. I can’t fully get over it. No matter how much I tell myself nothing he said matters, that he never got to know me so his opinions carry no weight. Still, it all sunk in too deep too long ago. I can’t get over it or around it and I can’t seem to get past it.

I don’t know if you can make yourself believe in yourself just cause you say so, to yourself. It does seem there has to be someone else to back it up. Not even that. Cause anyone who tells you how good you are gets qualified. Your brain is geared up for qualification so well, it can do it on auto pilot. Tell me how well I write and I know I’m only faking it, or I’m not getting paid or I’m really not even putting my full effort into it. So, how well am I writing really. Qualifications make the grrl drag on. I don’t get things done, I procrastinate cause I’m afraid to even start to try.

It’s all so silly cause I know I can do it. I know I can write. I love to write. I love watching my words take shape on the keyboard. I love the sound of my own words as they fly out on the page. I love words and I love writing them, giving them order, purpose and style. My style!

So, what holds me back. I’m not always sure. Fear of failure, fear of having someone confirm that I really am just a phoney after all. For, once someone does that, there will be no hope at all. How can I overcome someone confirming what I’ve been afraid really is true all along.

What a lot of words on a page. Isn’t that the whole point of a journal? A chance to let your brain stop holding back and just release the hounds! Let them see what they can catch today. So the hounds were out there. I don’t think they caught much. But it will be interesting to see what kind of soup it will make when it all gets cooked up.

Happy day!

PS- Today I found out that I did get the days off to meet Eric in Ottawa! Great news. Now I can start being happy again and planning the trip. 🙂

Being in Love

I’m kind of scared. I’m trying not to be. David probably isn’t scared, not much anyway. I’m not sure how he is doing it. How do you take a big chance on someone? How do you just let them become such a big, important part of your life? How do you love someone? I’m starting to love David.

But, I’ve been here before with these online things. At least three times that come to mind now. One was Dave, the helicopter pilot. He wanted me to move to Oregon. He wanted me to do kinky things to him that I wasn’t really sure about. But we talked a lot. He was the channel owner of the chat channel on IRC. I liked being the main squeeze of the guy in charge. I know that was probably what made him attractive to me at the time. Then, one night the rug began to slip out. I had to drown a few kittens that day, a mercy killing. It was horrible and I came online pretty upset and just wanted him to listen and sympathize. He couldn’t. He just wanted to talk about himself. My needs were pushed aside so he could tell me about his own. That was when I knew this wasn’t going to be the guy I wanted. Later he had a terrible accident in the helicopter, delivering Christmas trees. But, even before that I knew I wanted out. It was just harder not to feel like a bitch when I left. I did though. Yes, he needed someone, but it didn’t matter if it was me or some other female. Anyway, he was never the same after the accident.

There was Sherkhan (Richard) before helicopter Dave. But that ended as friends, good friends. I do miss him and wish him all the best. Last I heard he was with another online friend. They’ve been together awhile now. I wish I hadn’t lost their email addresses. Too much moving and computer death.

There are three more I’ve thought of as I type this: Artistry (Dale), Chris and Lynn my dragon friend. Lynn and I were never romantic. But, I wondered. I loved him in some way, more than just a friend. I don’t know what he felt, he was kind of closed off. A hard person to really know. I did feel love for him but it wasn’t romantic or like brother and sister really. Maybe it was a seed that never sprouted.

Artistry, there’s a story I’ll never know the end to. I was brand new online. I fell madly in love. I thought he felt something. I don’t know really. I think he played games and even if he really did have feelings for me I think the games mattered more to him. He made a sudden departure. It was a crushing defeat for me, for awhile. I lost all those feelings of being in love. I’d never felt that before or since. Not the passion, the way the colours in the world were all brighter and the way I could read a romance novel and really… get it! Artistry betrayed me, lied and then never would tell me what changed. Maybe he never felt anything. But I did. That much I’ve kept.

Chris then, the one that hid himself away. I think of Chris the most of them all. I wrote erotic stories for Chris. I made him my online lover. He was an Englishman living in Hong Kong. When I wrote him an email it was noon my time and midnight his time. But we were friends, real friends. I could tell him anything and I did tell him a lot. I know he cared for me at least as much as I cared for him. But, he couldn’t take that final chance of actually meeting. He was a Scorpio. I’ve come to know how secretive Scorpios are. He just kept to the pattern. But, I’d be glad to talk to Chris again. I would love to know he missed me and our talks and our stories. I don’t need him to love me. That’s passed. But I miss that wonderful, warm friend. He will always be special in my life.

I married Todd. But I don’t include him in the online romances. We were penpals for over 20 years then we met face to face. He kissed me and said there were sparks. But it ended in a divorce a few years later.

Now there is David. He tells me he loves me and I believe what he says. I just find it hard to believe it’s me this is happening to. I’d given up after Todd. But I’m forever an optimist. I tried to meet more men. I answered their brief emails with as much of my whole heart as I could dig up. But each one fell flat. No answering beat, no pulse, no feeling. After a few of those I didn’t even want to try. I wanted to beat men up in general. Those unfeeling clods! How dare they not see me. How dare they talk about the great woman they want to meet and then ignore me when I’m sitting right here! How dare they start something they can’t bother to finish? How dare they strike a match and leave it to burn itself out, unnoticed.

So here I am now and there’s David. I’m afraid it will be some joke of fate. After all this time how can I now find someone that really does want me in spite of everything. It can’t be real. I keep sending him reasons he shouldn’t love me. In case he changes his mind now when it’s not too hard for me to lose him. But he still says he loves me and he’ll wait right here for me. He’s coming here for me. He didn’t even expect me to move there. He’s moving here, uprooting his life and his computer and coming here. There is nothing here but me. How can I live up to that? What if I’m not good enough? Not that I think I’m not. Mostly some of the time. Now and then I feel I’m half of a really great couple, the sort of couple who grow old together and are the envy of all their grandchildren. Now and then it’s so close I can almost taste it. But I’m still alone. It’s not easy to have faith but I’m trying. I’m trying for David cause I think he’s worth it. I am too.

Don't Need Me

I don’t really think I’m ever going to find a man to share my life with. I’m not sure what’s so wrong with me but I it’s something. People can sense it in some weird way, a vibe, a smell, a whatever. I don’t know. The only people who are attracted to me are the needy. Men and young people who need someone to listen to their problems, their life stories and give advice, pretty much anything but money. That’s one commodity I don’t have.

I don’t want to be needed. I want to be wanted, desired, lusted for and at the top of his to do list. Do me, do me cause you want to not cause I asked, not cause I guilted you into it. Do me cause I’m what you want. Be with me cause I’m interesting, attractive, good company and a lot of fun in the bedroom. Don’t bother with me cause I’m a good listener and you need someone to weigh down with your life’s history of problems. I have my own I really really really don’t want yours too.

Why doesn’t anyone really want me? I’m feeling old and worn down by being needed.

Pebble in Her Shoe

I’m tired. I did some pay day shopping today. Bought new boots for winter, men’s boots cause they fit nicer and give toe wiggling room. Also, you can buy a size 7 instead of an 8. Silly, but kind of nice.

I bought some things for my sister’s mother-in-law’s birthday party on Saturday. I have Saturday off!!! That doesn’t happen often. Nice to be going to a party for Rhoda. She is a lovely lady, very generous of heart. It surprises me that someone can be like that. People say I’m nice but I would never be as nice and generous as Rhoda is. Sometimes I think I’m too broken to be that open any more.

My Mother is doing the controlling thing again. If I opted for a lobotomy she could just sweep me along and I’d do everything the way she wants, when she wants and how she wants. If only I could stop all these urges to try to be a person. How silly of me. Ugh! How can you tell your Mother she’s overly controlling? Especially when I have no where else to go? Of course, I can always be that bag lady I know I can be. I’m already in training for the part. Just look at my car. Full of stuff my Mother decided to get rid of for me. How kind, how can I ever …. I don’t even know. Too bad you can’t just stop things for awhile and think. Time just keeps flowing on, you’re really just a pebble in it’s way.

Damn Moody Bastards in General

I wrote a bit of sarcastic (mostly) blabberation for the BackWash Feminists in Makeup community.


Overlook the fact that I’m not as cute as GK. You’re stuck with me this time. Yes, the backseat driver is taking over. Suffer the poor reader.

As usual, I come with no point in mind. If you’ve ever read my column you’re probably used to that by now.

What’s on my mind as I type this is ‘poor bastard’ and ‘moody bastard’ just bastard in general. Have you found yourself referring to one or more men in your life as a bastard? I have. It’s kind of amazing how much better saying one word can make you feel. Don’t believe me? Try it.

Think of the one you love, yeah, that guy. Now call him a bastard. (Not to his face or in his hearing, that just takes all the fun out of it when he gets all peeved and you have to listen to the bastard bitch about you for an hour. What a mood killer, eh?). You can even pick a subspecies of bastard. My personal favourite is moody bastard, but to each her own.

The trick is that you have to say it out loud. No whispered or thought only bastard allowed. It doesn’t work if you hide it. Go ahead, say it a few times. Give it a flourish!

It really does work. Of course, it doesn’t change anything, he’s still a bastard. But, it does make you feel like you’re giving the bastard a little of his own bastardy back.

Damn bastard!