Dear Roger: Surreality-The Weirdness That Is My Life

What a week! We finally have a couch though it nearly cost me a broken hand. Its a monster of a couch, 7ft long and all steel and wood and black houndstooth material, its very, very cool and probably the heaviest couch I have ever owned. When we were loading it into the back of my friends Durango, I managed to get my hand caught between it and the back end of the truck and ended up with,"Severely crushed tendons and a deep bone bruise" on my right hand of all things! It never fails that some damn disaster befalls me when I am at my busiest.

Work has been going good. I enjoy it and I am meeting people and starting to get out and try to actually socialize some.

I am making my first foray into acting today. I have been called to be in a funky show on the IFC channel. I am pretty excited about it and its just pretty much being window dressing, but wow! I like the show and I watched it regularly when I had cable, so I am pretty jazzed to be on it. If this is fun, I will see about trying to be in others, more often.

My writing is going along okay. I am considering taking the story into a little more twisted angle, but I have to get over being squeamish about writing the more explicit sex scenes first I guess. I just have read sooo many bad ones, I dont want to repeat the mistakes I have seen. I like to write erotic without smacking people in the face with all the,"Pulsing and throbbing" what have yous.

The kids are driving me nuts. School doesn't start back until September 9th and I am sure I will be insane by then. If I have to put up with sons smart assed snarky attitude much longer, I will lose my mind. Daughter is turning into an insomniac. Last night she realized that it was 10 days til the 100Monkeys concert. At 1130 at night I had a 7 year old in freak out mode. I was in my bed, at that stage of sleep where you are all relaxed and almost dead to the world, when I felt something touch my cheek. I jumped and opened my eyes to find her standing over me with her damn beady eyed monkeys. "Its almost less than 10 days til they are back!!!" she gushed at me.

I sat up and told her that if she didn't get her narrow ass out of my room and into bed, I was gonna whop her, her monkeys and him when I saw him, just for all the damn aggravation! My heart about jumped out of my chest she startled me so damn bad! It was dark in my room and to have someone standing over me! Hell, all she needed was to be singing,"Keep Awake" and the scene would have been perfect. I heard her brother laughing out in the living room, so I know he put her up to it. It took me a good hour to go back to sleep.

I have decided to go to my 25th High School reunion in April. I am probably going to take the Amtrak back there, but either way, I am going because there are some friends I want to see, and I want to see my sis. Its time to go home for a bit to just say,"Hello" and be the scandal to give folks something to ponder for a bit.

Dear Roger; Virtual Pasture Parties

I think I have decided to actually try and go to my 25th high school reunion. It will coincide with me turning 43 and a decent time of year in Texas, so going back home for a bit might actually be a good thing. If I have a car by then, I will drive, if I dont, I will fly into Dallas and then drive on home and maybe visit some folks in the outlying areas. I have close to a year to prepare myself for it, so I will figure it out by then. I do actually miss some folks back there. Some are kinda surprising, a gal I hardly ever spoke to in school because she was one to the 'Preps" has turned out to be someone I kinda enjoy chatting with, and there are people I played baseball with as well as just hung out with that I have discovered I do kinda miss. I also want to go pay respects to those who have passed and I want to see my sis.

My hometown folk have started a Facebook page and people get on there and just talk about all kinds of things. Some nights its like sitting around the tailgate of a pickup truck talking. All that is missing is the sound of whip o wills and tepid beer. I love reading the postings and catching up with people. Some of it is heartbreaking though, as I have found that some people I knew have passed on, in fact way more than I expected.

I do miss Texas and many of the folks back there. Its been hotter than hell back there though, and I wouldn't like that, but its going to be in April so I guess it will be tolerable.

Going back to see them will be fun. No pretense on my part, I am who I am. Yeah, I am,'Deeply and creatively weird", my private life looks like a train wreck and I am constantly broke, but I am a minorly published author, I am breaking into acting and you know what? I am a survivor and I am happy and comfortable with myself. I have no one I care about impressing. That is such a cool feeling. I dont care what anyone thinks about me. I lived most of my life with my own parents thinking I was gay or on drugs or just a huge disappointment to them, and in February, when I decided that I was done with them, I felt free. I am just me now. I write fic, I have some silver in my hair and wrinkles and I can burp like a truck driver. I perv after younger men but couldn't get laid if I fell out of a chickens ass, but I am happy. That is the way to be. I will be taking that with me when I go back and I think I will be a better person to know.

Writing is going pretty good. The hits on my stories are insane and I guess I should keep at it. Its a good feeling.

Dear Roger: Getting Priorities Straight?

Well, I did it. I finally nutted up and took the kids to see the final Harry Potter movie. I had put it off and stalled, using excuses such as bad timing, no money and not feeling well, but the truth was that I wasn't sure I was capable of handling it. I find it really unfair that people who will freely admit to crying over the death of a cartoon deer,(Bambies mom) or a movie dog when,(Old Yeller), make fun of people or say people like me ,"Need help" because we are bereft at the death of fictional characters that we have loved and followed for TEN YEARS.

I cried reading the book. Seeing the things I had read, acted out by actors I like and respect, was powerful and moving. Realizing that not only have the children who started those movies aged, but so have many of the others and that is soul clenching.

I cried during parts of the movie. It would have been much much worse had I not been prepared by my friend, but thanks to her I was at least prepared and able to maintain some dignity. The toughest scene for me to take was the scene in the forest where Harry sees and speaks with his lost loved ones. That scene just ...I shook with the power of my sobs and that was when my son actually patted my back. He understood.

My son was most affected by Lupin and Snapes deaths. He had heard what was going to happen, but seeing it got to him. We all walked out of there much more subdued than we went in, and there wasn't much talking on the way home other than an argument that I think was more a stress response than anything else.

Its been warm up here this week. I have actually enjoyed the heat and not being cold for once. I am probably the only one, but its nice to not need a hoodie in the middle of summer for once.

I have started slowly getting school clothes for the kids. Its not easy, daughter has grown like a weed and none of her jeans and almost none of her dresses fit so she needs EVERYTHING! Its all expensive and even though she isnt as picky as her brother, I like her to look good. My son is the problem child. He is a teen and at that age where what he wears is as important as how it fits. I have tired to step back and allow him to chose his own clothes and such, but my Lord the boy dresses like a twink. I finally told him flat out the other day that if he insisted on wearing skin tight skinny jeans with tight fitted tees, huge clunky shoes and a douchey small fedora, that if he got hit on by men, he better not get pissed off and rude, he should just politely inform them he just had poor fashion sense. He was not amused. I am not amused either, the boy stole a pair of MY Levis and has been wearing them. The are forever ruined and he had the audacity to complain that they,"Bind his bits", well DUH! They are made for a woman! I dont know how he thinks they look good. He is bigger than me, and taller so they are too short for him and waay too tight, but he wears them half off his ass so it looks like his knees are backwards. I have been tempted to pants him again just to prove my point,(once again),that wearing jeans hanging off your ass that low, is a bad idea.

He has other jeans. In fact he has several pairs of Old Navy jeans, but he wont wear them. He bitches about his t-shirts claiming I shrink them, but what he fails to realize is that he is growing! He cant wear a mans small anymore. He is in a medium headed to a large. He is too broad in the chest and hes getting to long bodied, but he doesn't realize that. He has outgrown his coats, his drawers, and pretty damn much everything. Its just like a financial apocalypse of the teenager kind.

I found myself a couple of pairs of jeans yesterday. I am lucky im not picky. I found them at a secondhand store for 4.00 a pair. Both were Old Navy, one still had the tags on them and the other pair looks brand new. Its hard for me to find a size 4 in black up here, so I got lucky and I grabbed them. Im not too proud. Im clearing out my western cut jeans. I am going to donate them to a woman's shelter so that someone might get some use out of them, after all, I haven't worn them but maybe once or twice in the past year and I have to keep moving

forward.

My writing is going pretty good. I am still shocked at all the hits my stories are getting. I have already hit over 1000 for this month and after hitting 7000 hits last month, I am on track to hit that again this month. Its an amazing feeling! I am even working on another chapter of my most popular story about back home. I may even take the advice of several of my friends and un-fic it and see about submitting it for publishing to see if anyone is interested, though I would leave the fic version for all the readers who have loved it.

The countdown to the concert has begun. Daughter is already in freakout mode on a fairly constant basis and she did something soo strange yesterday that I am still sitting here wondering if maybe I should limit her tv viewing even more or if I should just accept that she has become a child of Portlandia? You know she loves her monkey,"Jackson" with all her little heart? She carries it almost everywhere and sleeps with it, talks to it, plays with it. The goofy thing is her best friend. She also collects other monkeys, but they are secondary to Jackson and rarely rate her attention very long. Well, yesterday I found her another monkey for her collection. It was a cute one, blonde colored and a nice quality beanie baby.When Sus and I went by to pick up her and her brother to take them to a surprise lunch, she was forced to leave Jackson at home by her brother. She got into the car and I handed her the new monkey. She squealed and hugged it and decided his name was,"Fredrick", and she took out her "cell phone" and called Jackson.

The conversation was soo weird! She said, "He is soo excited to meet you too!" She chattered on and then said,"Love you too, bye!" and hung up. She then informed all the shocked passengers in the car that,'Fredrick" is gay. I have to say, that is a first for me. There was silence in the car for a bit and I just said, "Okaaaay." So, now what? I know I have raised my kids to be open minded and to believe in,'Live and let love", but amongst stuffies? What about Jackson? How much of what she said does she understand? I know she has clued in on a lot of things and she knows that our neighbors are a couple and she is starting to develop some,"gaydar", but her father would lose his ever loving, homophobic mind, not that there's anything wrong with that.

Dear Roger: Monkey Surgery and Writing Jags

Im writing again. Yeah, I know I write to you pretty much weekly, but I started writing another story. Its actually a sequel to one of my more popular stories, and yeah I am being a total candy assed wuss by sticking with the fic genre and not trying to just develop my novel and take it out of the realm of characters that have a developed fan base, but I was getting a lot of requests for a sequel for that story and it really fit best in that world. Excuses, excuses! I know, but hey! At least im back at it. I've been pretty shocked and humbled to see all the hits the story has gotten. In one month, all my stories got over 7000 hits! I couldn't believe it. I was soo freaked out I actually ran into the living room where son was asleep on one of his mattresses on the floor in front of the tv, and I may have jumped up and down on the foot of his bed yelling and whooping and about getting all those hits to my stories. Son was a bit unhappy with me at first, but he got over it pretty quickly and congratulated me. I'm steadily working on more chapters to load every other week or so, and I have other stories that I have been working on that I might finally finish fleshing out and do something constructive with, or I might just work on the type that is the most popular and end up cleaning it up, un-ficcing it as has been strongly suggested by some friends, and submitting it as a series of short stories to some publishers. I dont know if I will ever develop the juevos that will allow me to do that, especially without you around to nudge me into it, but I like to think that I would have back when I was younger and more able to withstand having my pitiful efforts ripped to pieces.

I worked some pretty awesome mom-fu the other day, I managed to repair daughters,"Jackson". His sewn on smile had come unstitched and she came unglued, crying and upset that he was falling apart. honestly, the poor thing has been all over hell and half of Portland. Drug in and out of bags, pockets, from around necks, its made trips through her brothers underwear when she has made him angry and he tortures her by stuffing the monkey down his pants to horrify her,(poor monkey has a permanently startled expression for a reason),the cat has molested it in ways that really just boggle the mind and will likely horrify her further when she is old enough to understand what was going on during those,"Wrestling" sessions. Anyhoo, I consulted with people in the know as to what should be done, and they recommended snipping off the pulled thread from the smile, and then restitching over with new thread.I have no problem snipping any monkey that is going to be around my daughter, but I had to wait until she left for church to keep the freakout on her end of things down, so once she was gone, I got that done, but then...I couldn't see the end of the damn needled to thread the mismatched thread I was going to have to use because I was out of black thread. Luckily, I had a black sharpie! Jacksons smile is now back to its normal, maniacal, self and she was none the wiser.

The new job is going well and I am liking it so far. The boss tells me I am popular with people,(so far), and I guess I am doing okay at it.

Dear Roger: Masochism, But Not For Fun

Almost 11 years of dealing with my ex and you think I would have developed a thicker skin. But yesterday he managed to get to me. I dont know how, but he did and after I hung up the phone I found myself in tears. I guess it was because he hit on my old insecurity about my looks. It goes way back to when I was around 9 or 10 and I was sitting in the rodeo arena stands with my mother and one of her few friends and they were discussing me and my sister. My mother said, "Jennifer is the smart one, but Trina is the pretty one." The friend spoke up and said that I would grow into my looks, but that one sentence stuck with me and has echoed in my head my entire life.

It didn't help that because our house was so filthy and disgusting when I was a kid that I often went to school smelling and with dirty clothes and looking less than decent. I had a teacher that took it upon herself to shame me in front of the entire drama class by handing me a comb and sending me to the bathroom to comb my hair. She then washed the comb in front of the entire class like it was diseased. Needless to say, my social standing was not helped and neither was my self-image.

For 11 years he pointed out every flaw. My odd nose with its bump that is a familial trait. My hands that have seen years of hard work and do not look ladylike. Yes, maybe I am too skinny at times, but stress is a great diet program. "A well-dressed Lesbian", was his favorite way to refer to my style of dress. "Lazy" even though I worked a full-time job and kept house as well as had kids while he often was unemployed and ensconced in his recliner.

Picking at little insecurities is his specialty and I guess I should be used to it. I learned to be quiet and not argue back because he was much bigger than me. In fact he was often up to around 290 to my 100-110 and there are still marks in the drywall and doorjambs from where I pissed him off by talking back. Shutting doors did no good. Did you know that a hollow core door will pretty much explode when a 290lb man kicks it? It is not fun to clean all that up.

He was particularly snarky yesterday. I had taken daughter to get her picture taken professionally and when I called to give him the information so he could relay it and see if his family wanted any copies or prints, I mentioned that there were a couple of group shots that had been taken but that I didn't like them. He said, "Well, you never do take a good picture." And there it was again, that hateful, snarky, "Lets cut her down and take the happy out of her day." that is soo much him.

It worked.

I sat there after I hung up, just feeling like shit.

Its not like I have any other input from men. He is the only male who talks to me and that's not a good thing because hes a bit of an ass. He is the king of passive/aggressive,(and let me tell you , full on aggressive), comments and jabs to hurt.

He has companionship. There is a woman I know who is visiting him and interested in dating him. It boggles the mind. She is an otherwise intelligent woman and she knows he was in prison for taking a straight razor to me and other fuckery, but they like each other and he now has a social life.

I dont get it.I cant even get the time of day from anyone anymore. I had quit trying, but it would be nice to at least be noticed, but I dont even get that.

I wish I didn't have to talk to him, but he has my sons and if I want to talk to them, I have to deal with him.

He has managed to lose the house and he received foreclosure papers last week. He is talking about moving to Portland. That makes me sick to my stomach. As much as I miss my sons and as much as I want them, I dont want him in my city. He is a soul-sucking, joy killing, lamprey. If he comes here, Austin will become much more of a possibility, even if I have to walk.

Dear Roger: The Further You Go

One year ago today we woke up in the spare room of the house of the one person we knew up here in Portland, dug through the paltry few possessions we had brought with us to find some decent clothes to wear, tried to map out the route to where we were headed one more time, dug through the dirty jeans and side pockets of our bags looking for any more money we might have, and then taking our $2.37, an over excited 6 year old and her scroungy stuffed monkey, we headed to the show that that turned things around for us.

It was weird that the now 7 year old woke up having a screaming nightmare about her favorite boy being hurt or something this morning. I had to go get her out of bed at o'dark thirty this morning and cuddle her up and assure her that he was okay and probably still asleep,(unlike me at that point), so I brought her and her monkey to my bed and tucked her in, and assured her that all was well. He, in fact, just tweeted a few minutes ago, and if she wasn't sound asleep next to me, I would have pointed that out to her, but like is always the case, the small child that wakes the entire house is always the one that is quickest to go back to sleep.

Its been a busy year for us, and just in that past week things have really started showing a vast improvement. I now have a job. We are no longer sleeping in someones spare room. I can personally attest, that we have well over 7 bags worth of stuff to muck about, and I now know more than 1 person up here. Not many more, but I met a friend at the concert and 1 year later we are still hanging out and talking, doing coffee and in a few weeks, attending our second 100 Monkeys concert together.

I am actually bringing a friend to this one. Thats soo not like me and that speaks to the power of this odd little band with its enigmatic front boy. We joke back and forth about her insistence he is a,'Serial killer", with me agreeing that as often as over-stimulated, hormonally challenged fans proclaiming,"Im dead", at every picture of him they see, that if it were true, he would be a very prolific one.But I invited her and nagged at her until she agreed to give his band a chance and come see them in concert. I am looking forward to seeing her and many of the other fans I have spoken with and made friends with... that's right, me...with friends that I actually hang out with and want to see. Just saying it seems soo damn strange. One year ago, I had one friend. They lived here. We didn't really hang out. We dont really have much in common. I am not a churchy person and she is, but she cares about my kids and we do get along pretty decently.

My other friend that I had in Flagstaff had gotten married and had left when she was afraid I was slowly committing suicide by staying in Flagstaff. We have reconnected since I moved up here, but she didn't have faith in me and that kinda stings a little. So, having people I am looking forward to seeing and hanging out with, well, that's just weird and cool.

I am so used to being,"So and So's mom" at this point, that having friends who actually know my name and who talk about going out to do adult things like chase cute guys or maybe have a beer or something, well, that's even stranger, but that is what these friends are talking about. Yeah, daughter is the main focus of the whole concert thing. Just like a year ago this is for her, but after that is for me. I am hoping to be able to send the kids home and play with the big kids for a little bit. A year ago I wouldn't have dreamed of it. I am still weird and somewhat out of place, but I am starting to adapt. Im older now, so things take a little longer, but as far as we have come in this year, I am pretty damn happy. We still dont have any damn money, but we will get there.

I look at the tattoo on my wrist and hand and I think about that day and how my kids started smiling, and how it felt to laugh again. That boy still makes me laugh, with his,"If you only knew what I was up to" grin and his Ely shirts that look like he raided my fathers closet circa 1978, its hard to not just love the hell out of him. Its been a year of good for us, and I hope the same for him.

Dear Roger: Kid Based Insanity

Kids make you crazy, or at least mine are making me crazier. We spend a lot of time together and that may have a lot to do with it, but between a daughter that averages over 170,"Hey Mom's" a day and a teen son that is well on his way to mastering snark and sarcasm, I have days when I long to just walk out the door and flee down the sidewalk, even if I am only partially dressed.

We talk about everything, and I guess its great that we have such an open and close relationship, but that is a double-edged sword. While as his mother, I offer my son advice about his personal grooming and dress and behavior, he feels free to do the same to me.

Yesterday, we were finishing up cleaning the old apartment so we could hand over the keys today. I had a hat on and my hair pulled back out of my face and was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. He grabbed my pony-tail as we were walking up the sidewalk and he said,"When you get paid, why dont you spend some money and do something about this hair? You need to get a style so you look like a girl."

This started a debate over my manner of dress, my lifestyle, my habits and just what the hell was wrong with my hair? I have let it grow since we got up here to Portland. I haven't colored it, cut it or done anything with it other than wash it and let it grow. He now thinks I should get it styled into some kind of layered mom cut and that I should get the silverish stuff dealt with. What the hell?

Im not dating. I dont have anyone who gives a damn what I look like. I wear jeans and boots and t-shirts most days and while I am clean and presentable, I probably dont look really approachable, and really, I dont care. I am not going to change who I am to date some guy, so why should I bother messing about with my hair?

He went on to lecture me about getting a manicure and not wearing as much black!

Daughter even got into the debate and piped up about that! "Yeah mom, you wear black ALLLL the time, you need to wear pink or something." This is a child that talks to a stuffed monkey. I am not taking fashion advice from her. I like wearing black. It suits me.

Son is the opposite, he likes bright colors and has no problem wearing all kinds of odd arrangements. I asked him if he was wanting me to try to get out and date or something, he shrugged and said,"You need to do something other than sit around and read and write all the damn time."

Daughter has been just as nosy about my personal life lately. She came up to me the other night and asked,"Do you have a special someone?" I told her,"No, just you kids." she looked surprised and said,"Well why not? Everyone should have someone! I am going to find you someone."
Son was sitting next to me cracking up at this exchange and he said,"You are in trouble now."

I have images of me having to take her out in public muzzled for my sanity. She has no qualms about talking to people and asking embarrassing questions.

I have had to referee fights between her and her brother lately. They aren't as hateful, but she is much more sensitive to any verbal jabs he may inflict on her. He is starting to become aware that she looks up to him as a erstwhile father figure and he has somewhat stepped into that role. He taught her to tie her shoes in double knots, he is very protective of her and he calls her to task when she misbehaves. She listens to him as well as she listens to me, and when he tells her to go to bed or to not eat her dinner in my room, she gets mad, but she obeys. She hugs and kisses him goodnight, and even though he initially resisted and acted like a typical boy afraid of getting cooties, he now hugs and kisses her back and tells her he loves her.

We are working on becoming a affectionate family. We hug and talk and joke and tease each other constantly and we talk things through. Its not always easy and sometimes voices get raised,but raising a teen son on my own is the toughest challenge that I have ever faced.

Sticky boy turns 11 in a couple of weeks. We have been trying to figure out what to send him for his birthday and when I asked the ex what he wanted, I had to have him repeat it several times because I wasn't sure I had heard correctly. He told me that he wanted,"Wii games, some movies and ladies." I said,"Some what?" the ex said,"Ladies, lots and lots of ladies." I sat there stunned for a minute, looking at the phone as I repeated ,"Ladies?"

My soon to be 11 year old son, who is just at 3 ft tall, bespectacled, gap toothed, Down Syndrome affected, ginger son, loves the ladies. My ex tells me he tells him frequently tells him,"Dad, I really like ladies." The ex tells me that when he sees a woman who he particularly finds appealing he will smile at her and then say,"Raaar" with the little hand claw motion.

I advised the ex to ban any further viewing of Austin Powers and to begin ,"The talk" now!