Dear Roger :Things You Stumble Into

Shes been gone to church camp these past couple of days and it has felt like half of me is missing. I find it odd that someone like myself, who never wanted to be a parent, finds themselves ruled heart and soul by the creatures.

I really did never expect to be a mother. I failed my eldest daughter so terribly that I should have had myself spayed right then and there after she was born, but back then, the brilliant doctors in Texas wouldn't do that for a woman who was under 25.

When I had my eldest son, my life was a mess. His father is a full on, text book psychopath. I mean, seriously, out of Hares 21 characteristics of a psychopathic personality that lend themselves to being a serial killer, he met 13 of them. I still consider myself lucky to be alive and after the state investigated him to see if they could get me some child support and they determined that he was enough of a threat to not pursue for our safety, I guess my instincts were spot on. Soo, yet another child I failed.

My youngest three have a domestic abuser for a father. I consider him my atonement. I spent 10 years dealing with him and his tender mercies and he is still my burden to bear because I am forever connected to him because of my kids. I love my children and I miss my sons with a pain that cannot be expressed, though I have been told it can be seen. Nobody really understands it, but talking to them often makes the agony worse, especially when they cry and tell me how much they miss me. When Fergus died, not only did that rip my heart to pieces, but knowing that my children hurt and I couldn't comfort them made it all the worse.

My baby girl is my solace. I bought her way out of Arizona and she is my sunshine. I do not understand how she has come to rule my world so totally, but she is the wheel that turns us all and for once I dont mind it.

She is my miracle child, born sickly and early and the fact that we almost died together may have had something to do with it, in fact I had to face my greatest phobia to have her. I had to face being cut open with a scalpel . Yeah, my heart rate was through the roof, and being in that delivery room alone was terrifying because I didn't know what was going to happen if I died and she was alone, but I knew that I had to do it for her. Being strapped down and knowing they were going to cut me...I still shudder when I see that scar. Its one of the few that im proud of though, because it brought me her. I remember her first cries that sounded like a sick kitten, and how tiny she was. I was too sick to hold her for long, and we were separated for a few days, but I dreamed about her and I knew she was going to be something.

I dont know if its because shes the baby or because shes just her, but I try harder for her. I dont want to be like my parents. I try to always encourage and be positive and never tease about looks or anything. Shes beautiful with her long, curly, blonde hair that hangs to her butt and her big blue eyes and her dimples. She is the "Smart one" and the "Pretty One" all rolled into one, but I dont play favorites. She knows I adore her big brother just as much and we both spoil him too. We work at being a family, though we are broken and missing parts. She tries hard to make up for her brothers being gone by always talking about them and drawing pictures for me and reminding me that life is going on around us so I dont wallow in the misery of missing them and feeling like I have failed.

She never lets me feel that too long. She drags me along into her odd little world of monkeys and Harry Potter and her love of the odd little rock star, and she forces me to be enthusiastic about things that I would probably have put aside. She brings colors into my life and smiles and laughter and a joyful insanity. I have wallowed while she has been gone. Stuck a bit in my own head, though I did get out and go have coffee with a friend to try and chase away the darkness, but the 1st night with her gone, when my son was gone as well, spending the night at a friends house, I was reminded of the Douglas Adams saying, " I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be."

She will be home today with hopefully her Jackson in tow. I am planning to spend this evening celebrating by having a ,"Monkey tea Party" with her and over-indulging the hell out of her, just to let her know that she is loved, so she never for one second doubts that she is loved beyond all reason.

My son leaves next week and that will be yet another week of stress for me. Its a control thing I am afraid. Hes a teen and reckless, so I worry. Hes trying to show his independence and strength, but he is still my baby. We spoke of his father last night, and I finally told him everything. It was hard to see him grasp the fact that he will never have a relationship with a father figure. He wants that soo badly, someone to talk to, to be the guide and role model that all boys need to have in their lives, but when I explained everything, he just nodded and said,"I might as well consider him dead, that's fine lots of men grow up without fathers, ill just deal, but when I have kids, I am damn sure going to be there for them. " I wish you were here for him Rog, I tell him about you all the time, and the stories I think help. Knowing that there were good men who were part of his family makes him proud, and I wish you could have met him. Hes a handsome boy. He resembles you from when you were young, with the strong jaw and high cheek bones. Hes got those damn long eye lashes that boys seem to get and women wish they had. He gets looks all the time and often uses his looks to charm his way into things, and that scares the hell out of me, but I hope he learns to use them for good and not evil.

He dotes on his baby sister, even though they bicker as siblings tend to do. He is fiercely protective her her, and he acts as a father figure to her quite often. He attends her plays with me, making sure pictures and video get taken. He is attending the 100 Monkeys concert with us again in August, even though he really would prefer not to, because he wants to protect his baby sister from rampaging fan girls and he knows he will probably end up having to put her on his shoulders so she can see. He is a good big brother, even if he does steal her monkey and rub it in his armpits or drawers, just to hear her shriek in horror. He risks bodily injury by calling her favorite young rock star, "short" just to see her get mad and defensive so he can tease her to the point of door slamming and yelling and attacking, as a form of entertainment when there is nothing else to do, just so she knows he is paying attention.

Being a parent is not something I ever intended to do. I was supposed to wander through this life in a reckless and self-destructive manner, living the life of an artist and poet and burning out early and dramatically. My kids saved me, though I dont know why.

Dear Roger: No More "High" By Proxy or Relocation

We are moving. Not too far from where we are currently living, but far enough away that we wont be sharing a common heater vent with the hippies anymore. It seems that I am sensitive to either the smoke or the incense they are burning, because I have been having difficulties getting a deep breath, and as someone who had juvenile asthma, I am not into breath play or that less than delightful feeling of gasping for air.

I am also kinda sick and tired of explaining to visitors that I am not the reason our entry way reeks of weed. With as trigger happy as the Portland cops seem to be, I also worry about things like drug raids gone wrong,(hey, I was a cop, I KNOW what can happen), as well as all kinds of other dodgy characters wandering around at all hours, so when I noticed that the old managers apartment was being totally gutted and redone, I inquired about moving into it.

It is really going to be swanky with new appliances, paint, fixtures and ceramic tile, and to top it off, the bedrooms are a LOT bigger than the ones we currently have. The neighbors are all older, quieter, non-smokers and there are NONE on one whole side of us. Its a little bit more money each month, but it has a front lawn that nobody brings their dog down to crap on, and it also has a screen door.

Its going to be a bit of a pain in the ass to move, but I have already recruited several people to help, so we should be able to get it knocked out in a day, but what really amazes me is the fact that we came here a year ago with 7 bags, that's right Rog, SEVEN meager bags of clothing and miscellaneous electronics, and now? Hell! Now, we have STUFF!

My kids both have beds. I have a bed. We have a couple of old televisions and we have some chairs and a table. We HAVE stuff to move. I am starting to get a few books again and even a few art things. My boy has a guitar and my baby girl has a ukulele and a few cheap musical instruments she piddles around with. We have acquired things, which I do not usually hold in high regard, but I think they mean we are actually making some progress. I have built a bit of a home for my kids. I can feed and clothe my kids, I have successfully kept us somewhat sane and happy through this year and we are returning to the beginning in a few weeks. We have tickets to another 100 Monkeys concert.

I have grown somewhat as a person and a parent I like to think. I am finally allowing my daughter so venture away from me for the first time to attend an overnight church camp. While the prospect terrifies me, I know its something she wants and needs to do as a child in order to grow. She is excited but nervous as well and she is insisting on taking her Jackson with her for security. She has never slept a night without him, and while I am afraid of her losing him or some nefarious other child stealing him away and breaking her heart, I have done all I can to ensure he will return with her, including tattooing her name on his paw, and taping our phone number and such to his fuzzy behind with offers of a reward if he is returned to her if lost and then found. I dont know quite how I am going to deal with her being gone. I haven't been away from her for an extended period of time, ever, so I am liable to be a huge emotional wreck as well, after all...I had a panic attack and followed the bus to school the first time she ever rode it, to make sure she actually made it to school. I wont have that option with this trip, she will be several hours away from me and I will just have to cope.

Son leaves for camp the week after. He has been several times before and hes pretty excited as well. He has been gone more than he has been around this summer, enjoying his last bit of freedom before school starts back and I turn him into an inmate only with less privileges. His grades had better improve this next year or I will have to follow through and start following him to school and meeting with his teachers daily to find out how hes doing, or better yet, volunteering at the school so I can better keep an eye on things.

Moving is going to be a good thing for us. Its a 2 bedroom, 1 bathroom, which means we will have to share a bathroom. I am not thrilled with the prospect of that, but considering that my son seems to be incapable of keeping a bathroom to himself sanitary by any stretch of the imagination, I guess it will mean just one less to clean and maybe I can get him to finally grasp the concept of aiming.

Dear Roger:The Old Man And The Technology

Rog, you know how I said I was running two households from up here and trying to keep my boys afloat and their needs met, while not letting my ex drive me totally insane? Well, sometimes that is easier said than done, but I do get to extract little bits of humor from the situation and that is my port in the storm.

Technology is an amazingly fast moving thing in today's world. I remember going with you to Silo and looking at stereo systems back when cd's were brand new technology and you wanted to buy a player for your house. Nowadays, with cds being considered old tech and digital downloads supposedly the way to go, I look back at that shopping trip and it seems amazing that it was 20 short years ago. I remember the days before cell phones and vhs and the internet even computers, but I have embraced technology and I love it. I pay attention to the latest technology and I try to keep up with things, though I have to admit I was hesitant to get a so called,"Smartphone", because I didn't like the idea of companies being able to track my physical location at all times, but then I started weighing the possibilities of a mobile hotspot and digital tethering as well as being able to have a laptop at my fingertips, that combined with the fact that they finally got reasonably priced, I decided to finally get service.

My ex, who is over a decade older than me, is a technology hating curmudgeon. He has hung onto his vinyl records and most of the stuff from his youth, resistant to upgrading his lifestyle or his abilities to even try to keep up with modern times, but with two boys that are hungry for technology and for staying connected with me and their siblings, he finally had no choice.

Even with the help I provided, he was losing his cable and his cellphone and then I wouldn't be able to talk to my sons, and that would be a problem. With them almost 10 miles outside of town, it is just not safe for them to be cut off from phone service and with no internet or cable, they would be essentially cut off from news, weather and any kind of entertainment to keep them busy when the wind blows 50 miles an hour, so I decided to step in and get him a phone on my service that would double as a mobile hotspot so he would have internet and via the wii, internet television.

I got him the exact same phone I have, had it delivered to him and ever since then I have had to field calls that have ranged from accusations of attempted murder via frustration heart attack, to stress related insanity. Did I mention that this is the same man who would bitch if he won the lottery over the denomination of the bills used to pay it out to him? Yeah...I expected him to bitch and gripe, and its fine with me. He is 1500 miles away and he knows he needs to just suck it up and deal with it. I think his biggest problem is that he has finally realized that while he has pretended to be old for years, he has finally realized that he actually IS old. He is very behind the times and he is very out of touch with the world around him.

I work very hard to keep up with things that my kids are interested in, the music they like, the books they read and the culture that they are growing up in. Some of it, I dont much care for, and I am DREADING if daughter ever becomes one of those tweens that wants to go see movies like the Bieber film or whatever. But luckily, she is into pretty cool and interesting stuff,(largely because I try to influence her to stay away from the over processed and hyped crap as being for "common sheeple", but I encourage her to do things like read and think and check stuff out and if she is curious, we check it out and I try to reserve comment at things that aren't geared for me. He is not so careful, he tells the boys he doesn't like some of the stuff they like, and he tries to force his likes onto them and consequently, they dont talk to him about their likes as much. He wont let Stubby read Harry Potter, and Stub is bereft. He thinks his father thinks he is too dumb to understand it, but the problem is, his father is biased against it because he wants Stub reading books HE liked when he was a kid, books that Stub is not interested in at the moment, so Stub has quit reading. Its the same thing with hobbies. He wants to work on jewelry, and he wants the boys to do the same. The boys want to play video games or be outside.

I dont expect he will ever change, and the boys just try to work around him. The phone will provide them a link to me so I can talk to them and see them on video chat and just stay in touch. I told their father that if he cant figure it out he could just hand it to Sticky, after all, he was the one who figured out how to connect the Wii to the internet and stream movies through the LCD tv, and if a kid with Downs Syndrome can do it, surely an old man can eventually be taught at least the rudiments.

Dear Roger:Im Too Damn Grumpy To Be Playing "Wheres Waldo" With Monkeys

Remember how I have talked about my eye twitch that tends to get a little accelerated when I am aggravated or ready to start dispensing with swift kicks to the backsides to those most in need of them? Well, I am flat amazed that my eye is still in my skull.

Maybe it is the Texan part of me, or maybe it is the years spent in the militaristic world of law enforcement, or maybe it is just because I am one to those obsessive/compulsive people who believes in having their shit wired tight and dialed in, but when something is out of order, FUBAR, fucked up, not where its supposed to be, pissing people off, and just generally half assed, and people ignore it, it makes me a bit nuts. Factor in a child that has been looking forward to something and blames ME for it being that way, when it is in no freaking way,my damn fault, then you can see why my eye has gone off the deep end.

Supposedly, on June 28th, her favorite bands album was finally released. She was soo damn excited. She stayed up late watching their concert and little party they had to celebrate the fact, and she was looking forward to going to the store that they swore and be damned was the authorized carrier of said album. I told her that because money was tight, we were going to have to wait until the 1st of the month, but that I would go and make sure it was in the store and then we would go together and get it.

I went to said store and looked, expecting with all the hooorah for there to be a display or something, but there was nothing. I hunted down a clerk while my friend hunted through the racks thinking that surely we had just missed it. The clerk looked at me like I was mental," Hungry Monkeys? Hundred Monkey?" NOO! I showed her the wrist band I wore that day. 'Ohh!" again with the look. She looked it up on the computer and it popped up,"No, we aren't carrying it, in fact its not available in Portland or in fact, Oregon. But we can order it off the web for you." She advised us to check back in a day or two and talk to the company that stocks the music just to be sure, but the system said that it wasn't happening. We checked back. We talked to the music dept people, I talked to the store manager. Its not getting stocked in Gresham. I was bummed, and then I wondered, did the band people know? I tweeted, I emailed, I did everything but flash my ass at the computer screen to try and get somebodies attention, but nada...I was lost in the sea to teeny bopper boobie shots. I just wanted to find out where I could buy their damn record with my daughter, in person, and nobody could take 5 minutes to tell me where the hell it actually was. Its kinda annoying. If it was anybody but them, I would have made a crude gesture and promptly begun pushing Flogging Molly at her like it was the best candy to be found, but she genuinely loves them and honestly I forgive a lot of foolishness because of it.

Soo, trying not to be me. I emailed their record label and got yet another youngster who told me that it was being carried by the big boxes or we could wait until August and get it then. Oh yeah...thats happening. I wanted to tell her to come and tell my daughter that she was going to have to wait until August to get it and see how well that went over. I called around to the places the record label people gave me, I even called Arizona! I was willing to enlist the ex and allow him to be a hero and send it to her as a 'Gift" that I would have bought, but its not in Flagstaff ,AZ either. Its not to be found in East Texas where I have kin and friends in Maryland cant find it.

I knew it was available as a fecking digital download off ITunes, but you know what? I took her to her first rock concert, It was them and I was determined to take her to buy her first record together. Its a bonding thing. I kept calling around and it dawned on me, "Where best to find a funky little indie band than a Indie record shop?!" I called Music Millennium and sure enough they had 3 copies! They knew who the hell I was talking about! I didn't feel judged or like I was trying to buy weird porn. The price wasn't much above what I was expecting, they were willing to hold the copies for me and they were nice. Soo, finally! Thanks to my diligent detective efforts to find what feels like the worlds best kept secret, I will take my baby girl to a funky, cool music store tomorrow and I will hand her the money, and she will buy her very first cd by the first band she ever loved. I hope will look back on it someday and remember it with fondness. I, however plan to stick a Waldo sticker on the back of the damn thing. I have never worked that hard for any band or any boys. The 100 Monkeys are making a lot of changes lately. Some I am a bit...meh? over, others I just kinda sit back and say, "Well...its growing pains." I have heard the new record and it sounds pretty damn good for the most part. There are a couple of things I could do without , but its not my place to say.

Daughter is starting to branch out in her interests, and that is good to see. She loves Harry Potter and is absolutely enamored with Daniel Radcliffe. That is really cute to see. She watched the Tony awards with me and was up singing and dancing along with him, and she recently asked for a Harry Potter poster for her room. She reads Harry Potter to her monkey,"Jackson", out loud every night and asks all kinds of questions about it that show a deep understanding of the story, so I encourage her to keep on keeping on.

I wont let on to her how much of a pain in the ass it was to find the cd. I have just let her be mad at me, thinking that it was my fault she didn't have it yet. But tomorrow we will have a fun field trip and she will be happy, and for a brief bit I will be her hero. Thats good enough for me.

Dear Roger: Middle Management

My ex is like an albatross, perpetually hung around my neck like a harbinger of doom. He had the audacity to call me the other day whining about the fact that he was running out of meat. I had already spent the day before getting the power turned back on in his house. The utilities are still in my name so he didn't have to pay a deposit and try to re-establish service, because, since he never seems to have a steady, on the books job, he has no decent credit history and he would not have been able to do. Anyhow, he had neglected to pay the bill and so for $56, the company had shut him off, and since he is brilliant, he had called and tried to get the power put into his name and they had found an old bill from 12 years ago that he had neglected to pay, so they not only wanted the past due on the bill in my name, they wanted that old bill, a deposit and a bunch of fees in order to turn the power back on. So my sons were facing being in Arizona in July, with no electricity because Mr. Rocket Scientist had manged to turn a $56 bill into a $435 bill with one phone call.

Because I volunteered in Community Action and advocating for the poor of Arizona before I left, I have some connections back there. I made a few phone calls and I sent him to meet with a couple of people and voila! His electric bill was paid, his gas bill was paid and he even had a box of food, but that wasn't enough, he was bitching at me because he didn't have any meat. This is a man who currently weighs about 270lbs at 6ft tall. He spends $15 per week on a can of Topps loose tobacco because he rolls his own and smokes like a chimney. When he buys groceries, he buys soda and ice cream and crap. He got fired from his last job and because it was an off the books job, he doesn't qualify for unemployment. He walked into a house that was fully furnished, stocked up with everything anyone could need for MONTHS. I had taken every spare dime I had and I had gone to Sams club and I had bought tolite paper, paper towels, laundry soap, food, clothes for my boys. I had paid up the car insurance for several months, the tags were paid for the year and I let him leave it in my name. Not for him. No, fuck him. I did this for my boys. I tried to get my boys out. I talked to the judge. I talked to a lawyer and because I didn't have the money for a long protracted legal battle in a state that says even a wife and child abusing man has legal rights to his kids, I had to bargain with him and he wouldn't let my boys go.I gave him the house to get my daughter out. I take care of things back there for my boys and he know that. He has me by my heart and he knows it. So when he called to bitch about not having any meat, I began working on it, but it really pissed me off. I mean, How dare he?

When I first moved up here with my daughter and son, we were on a shoe-string budget. Being fubar means that finding gainful employment is not easy and with the economy as it is, that makes it even more difficult, then factor in no car. We were behind the 8 ball from the get go, but we hit the ground fighting. I found us an apartment in a good area that we could afford, even though it took most of our money and then we hit second had stores and garage sales to furnish it. Almost nothing in my apartment is new. We came up here with 7 bags that held mostly clothes and things like our laptops and a few pictures. I had to leave my art, my books and pretty much everything I had ever acquired in my life.

Our first month in this apartment was tough. We had pretty much nothing, knew almost no one and it was pretty scary. I was still getting used to being around people again, missing my boys and my Fergus and my kids were afraid we were going to fail. The bright spot for us wads the 100 Monkeys concert.

We almost didn't go. I agonized over it. I was afraid of crowds, of riding the train and being around people and the noise and protecting my kids. We had almost no money for anything, in fact we had just $2.27 to our names, it was a fecking hot as hell day and we had no idea where we were really going. We left extra early and arrived downtown and started walking and bickering. Poor daughter ended up walking around 5 miles all told that day and by the time we arrived at Voodoo Donuts, she was exhausted and near tears. We spent our money getting her a Dr. Pepper, a bottle of water and a donut.

Sitting on that bench outside, sweaty , tired and stressed out, I realized that we were making progress. Even though my friend hadn't wanted us to go to the concert and had refused to let us use her car even though she had allowed it for all kinds of other things, I had not allowed someone to control me...I had made it anyway.Watching those funky little cars roll into the parking lot and those beautiful boys tumble out of them, I couldn't help but to smile and believe that things were looking up.

Things did get better after that, the sunshine had come into our lives with the discovery that we were truly independent, but life was still tough. With no money often meant no food. I will not allow my children to go hungry, but I am quite capable of missing meals myself and I did just that. I shopped very carefully for staples and I made meals for my children that were healthy and filling, but were not fancy and often I did not eat. I got away with it for a few weeks before my son caught onto the fact I wasn't eating much and we had a huge fight. He worries too much. My son is a good kid, but hes a teen and teen boys are endless eating machines, so I made sure he was well fed. I was glad when school started up though because that meant that they had lunch at school and I could stretch the food budget even further. I am lucky that grandma taught me to cook with staples and avoid the junk food, because without buying all the junk, we actually eat pretty good now, but we dont eat a lot of meat. That is what really griped me about the ex's call. He has complained about my boys not liking the steak he cooked one night on the grill I left and I had to bite my tongue...not only do we not have a grill here, but I have had exactly one steak in the last year. Beef is so rare in this house, that when I do buy it, my son acts as if its Christmas. We eat chicken, lots and lots of chicken or we have no meat at all and we do just fine. Out meals have gotten creative and interesting and I cook things that the kids brag about. I make, "Bangers and mash" with a homemade gravy that has my son calling his friend with a "heads up" when I get out the pans for it, so I end up having to make a double batch to feed two teen boys. Its cheap, filling and its something different. I make chicken spaghetti as well as all kinds of Thai food and even just plain noodles with veggis, but when I told the ex that he could forego the meat and maybe lose a few pounds, his response was,"How can you call yourself a Texan anymore?" I call myself a Texan because I am tough, resourceful and because I can burn the candle a both ends with a blowtorch going on the middle and still keep my pride that im doing it myself.

Dear Roger: Its Not You, Its Me

I got the results of all the testing and interviewing I went through a month or so ago in order to see what kind of employment I would be best suited for and what would make allowances for my little glitches. I thought I was doing good, that I had made substantial progress towards getting out and meeting people and trying to not be so aloof and cold and stand offish, but the results of the testing indicate very strongly otherwise. In fact to quote the results I got,I would be best suited to employment in a field that,"does not involve significant interpersonal contact."

Words like,"Hyper vigilant, Hyperarousal,(not near as fun as it sounds), inflexibility, perfectionism, irritability, and on every single page and they cited my anger. They confirmed my diagnoses of Severe PTSD, and a heaping helping of depression along with a laundry list of related fun that makes me the equivalent of the female version of Severus Snape. They even commented on my attire and my, "Solemn demeanor".

I take issue with some of the comments because, I mean seriously! If you take a look at my past, I have a damn good reason to be a bit on the pissed off side. I have had people try to kill me. That is well documented and my ex did time in prison for it. Others didn't go to prison, but I have not made the best choices in companionship.

Yeah, I am a perfectionist. I am also a huge fuck up. If I didn't try harder to get it right, I would have just given up and become a total bum a decade ago. I am a creature of habit and ritual, So the fuck what? What is wrong with that? That means I know where stuff is, I remember obscure things and that can really come in handy at times. Hyper vigilance keeps my kids and my loved ones alive, it also is habit after living in a war zone for most of my life. I am a pro at reading people and knowing when to duck and when to get my loved ones the hell out of the way. Because I said I would lay down my life for my kids or my loved ones with no regrets, they consider my high risk for suicide. Honestly, I only live for my kids. I dont have anything else right now. So, yeah...maybe they have me there, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't be capable of being functional in a job.

Im supposed to attend a workshop this next month, they want me to jump through this hoop which essentially is supposed to help me find a sense of direction. I am looking into going into nursing still, I have known quite a few anti-social nurses, so that is not off the table.

I do not intend to change the way I dress. I am a grown woman and if I choose to wear boots and black, that is my choice. The report said that there really isn't much to be done for me. I am very distrustful of people,(duh), have no close relationships outside of my children, and I am intimidating,(me? I 5 fucking feet tall, weigh 105 lbs and I have wonky knees and shoulders!), but whatever, I guess my "Presence" scares the snot out of people. My temper is rigidly controlled and I maintain it that way for a reason. I dont lay a hand on anyone in anger, and the way things have been, I haven't laid hands on anyone for any other purpose either. A friend of mine suggested that I needed a good solid trouncing, and while I whole-heartedly agree, I do not foresee it happening anytime soon because apparently I am destined to just seethe alone.

Dear Roger: Ex's, Texas, Finding My Way Home

Rog, I miss the hell out of you. Of all the times for you to be dead, this time in my life is probably the most difficult to be without you. Yeah, you would be a 65 year old man at this point, but I know you would be one of those ageless bastards, probably like Alan Rickman, charming the hell out of all the artsy women and making everyone wonder just what the hell its is that you did to leave them so gobsmacked. But, son of a bitch, that heart of yours. I used to blame to doctors in Houston for your death. even though I KNEW that the survival rate for aneurysms was practically nil, I just always believed you were invincible. Anyway...I need your advice. I dont know what to do. I want to go back to work, I want to get out in the world and do something, but I cannot seem to get off the blocks. I dont know if I am lacking a swift kick in the ass to ignite my fire or if I am just weary through and through. I dont even get truly enraged at my ex anymore, it feels like I have just surrendered and become passive, or maybe perpetually stoned from all the weed smoke from my hippy neighbors, but regardless, I seem to go days without accomplishing anything tangible.

I dont even seriously hunt for men anymore. I look, but as for genuinely making an effort to meet and then follow up with? yeah...not so much. I dont even get away from the house very much. Now in my defense for that, I dont have a car and we actually have a grand total of 7.00 to see us through the end of this month. Being that completely poverty stricken tends to eliminate any kind of socialization or getting out.

I am considering nursing school. I had wanted to go back into Paramedicine so I could go back to work on an ambulance and thusly into the adrenaline filled world of Emergency Services, in fact I was leaning towards Tactical Medic school, buuuuut, the problem with that is the crazy hours and the reality of my age and physical status. I have had one shoulder rebuilt, need the other one done, need my knee rebuilt...Fuck! Im OLD too! Soo, more sane voices have been whispering, (and even yelling) in my ear about nursing school. I have been interested in it off and on, but I just worry about the politics and working around a bunch of women. I dont play well with others, especially women. I could go into Forensic or Industrial nursing and work for either law enforcement (Oh GOD, PLEASE?!) or companies, but in all honesty, I really enjoyed working in the Emergency Room when I was a tech and I dont get grossed out or freaked out, so trauma nursing would be something I might lean towards. I dont know. I will have to see what my voc rehab person says tomorrow. She may throw a monkey wrench in the whole works by saying that my PTSD has me too screwed up to deal with regular humanity, but I dont think so, I do try to talk to people on a daily basis, even if it is on the 'net, and my issues with my mom and dad are just that, MY issues and MY business, so we will have to see.

If I got my RN it would make it easier to eventually move back to Texas, and I know that is what my son really wants. Hes been mopey for the past few days because he wants to go back for at least a vacation and I just dont know how to make it happen. It would be wonderful to finally be able to move his young butt to Austin just in time to send him to college, and I know my daughter would thrive in the art community there. Its been a bit Californicated, but its still Texas and its still Austin and dammit...its where I was happy, once upon a time.

My first ex has resurfaced and has been talking to my oldest daughter for some reason. Its weird that after nearly 20 years he pops up out of the woodwork. I was a bit concerned at first, but hes married with 4 kids and living overseas. I guess he just was curious about what was going on in our lives. I wonder if he is still as good looking as he was when we were married? Well, thats neither here nor there, he is yet another past chapter of a closed book.

I am still working on figuring out where I fit in this world Rog. Having no purpose other than child raising never was where I saw myself. My hands ache to hold a camera and to capture the things I see, but I put that away from me when the world went digital and 6 year olds became 'Photographers" with the aid of Photoshop. I miss the thrill of the stalk and the drive and frustration to capture just the right moment at just the right time, battling time and elements and people, circumstances. Its not the same. My visions for my sculpture are too big to be constructed in my apartment, so I sketch them in my notebook and miss my yard and wish for a welder and chainsaw. Maybe frustration has turned into apathy? I haven't even written too much lately, but that is because I have been greedily reading everything I come across.

Rog, I miss you. I wish you would send a giant kick in the ass from wherever you are, some sign that I still have someone listening. I found myself listening to Pink Floyd last night and thinking of you, after all you introduced me to them, but instead of,"Learning to Fly", it was "Wish You Were Here" followed by the ever cheerful query of,"Is There Anybody Out There?"

I guess its the time of year, after all, this month you left us 17 years ago. Ironically, Fergus died the same week as you did, and while those who cleave tightly to the belief that the great one is a compassionate being and that you are with my big, slobbery best friend and solace to my crippled soul, you know I look at it as just another sign that I am forever his favorite whipping boy. I miss both of you more than anyone will ever understand.