This past week fucking sucked. There is really no other classy way to put it, I sat and just dreaded what I knew was coming like a paralyzed deer watching the approach of a semi-trucks headlights. I couldnt do anything to stop it, I was powerless, the second or third best, not worth the effort, the secret that shall always remain so, and I just sat here and mourned the slow immolation of what was left of my heart. I soothed some of the pain by acquiring a puppy.
I guess I am at that age. I haven't had close physical contact,(read:SEX) in so damn long that I find myself perusing Craigslist personal ads with half a thought towards insanity.
The kids had wanted a smaller dog they could actually play with without getting bowled over or flattened completely, and the choice came between a Pug or Boston terrier and since I have always wanted a Boston, that is what we ended up with. Benny is almost exactly like having an infant. Hes up most of the night raising hell, demanding of being fed immediately and he will jump in your face and go for whatever you are eating if you don't make with the food for him fast enough. Hes completely and totally adorable and probably thinks he cant walk due to all the time he spends in peoples arms, but hes just what I needed. I don't really have time to sit around and be bummed out in the morning when I have him in his crate yelling at me to let him out and feed him as well as hurry up and take him right out to potty, all the while trying to get Spencers needs met as he follows me through the house like a giant shadow, whining and tangling himself around my legs and getting in the way of my coffee, while Benny wiggles and tries his best to either launch himself at my throat in an attempt to help me drink my coffee, or knock it down the front of my shirt in the hopes it will speed me up. Its pure insanity in the mornings now, but im not complaining, I don't have much time to sit around and feel sorry for myself or miss what I will never have again,
Work is going good and its also helping to keep me busy as hell. I find it to be a blessing and a curse. I love that it gets me out of the house and forces me to interact with people on a daily basis, I hate that it forces me to interact with people that I would rather not know existed. It has provided some interesting opportunities to observe some examples of pure psychopathy in action, the effects of long term alcoholism, and various other forms of mental illness and cultures that I would not have observed in other ways. I figure that if nothing else, I have some material for my writing when my muse finally comes back.
I hope that is soon, I actually bought a real typewriter yesterday and it was delivered last night. Its a real beauty that I still cant believe I got so cheap! Its a 1920's Royal and its in museum quality condition, with no cracks rust or missing pieces at all and it functions perfectly! Its from a local shop and even has the original dust cover from the shop. It is gorgeous and I am thrilled to have it to work with, I saw a few exactly like it but not in NEAR as good as condition as mine going for nearly $700 on Ebay, so I guess for once in my life I got a hell of a deal.
Its all about distractions and keeping busy from now on, and just never looking back. Ive always been good at giving advice to people about this kind of thing, so now I have to try it on my own, and its the hardest damn thing I have ever done.
About Me
- Calamity
- Portland, Oregon, United States
- Middle aged crazy, a little on the broken side,been to hell and back and still make side trips into Purgatory to indulge the masochistic side of my personality. I'm Texan,Southern,Over-educated,arrogant, temperamental,oversexed but under-indulged.Chasing after younger men and the happiness that has eluded me for most of my life.Music and literature are my passions.Finally living the dream in my idea of Heaven.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Dear Roger: Monkey's Getting Bullied
The signs have been increasing over the past few weeks, the offhand comment about not wanting to go to school from a child who used to pop up every morning like a spring, literally vibrating and eager for the bus to arrive. The change in wardrobe from her typical flashy, punky style or her fancy dresses to a more subdued almost bland, pre-middle school camouflage of plain t-shirts, jeans and tennis shoes. Her temper has been shorter and I've gotten reports of her being in trouble for shoving another child or yelling at another child, and when I ask about it, she tells me that either they shoved her first or had been picking at her calling her,"Weird" and "Freak" among other things or they had try to take her Jackson on days when the kids are allowed to bring lovies for some reading event.
Today was such a day. She thought it was pj day so she had worn a pair of leggings along with her boots and a very funky cool long sleeved t-shirt that you couldn't even tell was a pj top unless someone told you, and of course she took Jackson. I was at work around 930 when I got a call from her begging me to come get her. She said it was because her clothes were wrong, but I should have known it was more, her voice sounded tense and upset, and I could hear the principal rushing her in the background. I was swamped at work and it was pouring rain so I told her she would be fine in what she had on, that it was raining too hard to walk to the school to get her and then walk home. It bothered me to do it, but I did.
When she got home in the afternoon, I got the whole story, it wasn't just her clothes that were the problem. They had a substitute who essentially allowed the little pack of girls who harass her, to have free reign in the classroom, and when my daughter left the room to use the bathroom, one of the more hateful of the girls kidnapped Jackson and was swinging him around by his tail and calling my daughter names when she got back and demanded his return. Apparently the hysterics and threats were pretty ugly and dire.
She doesn't understand why they hate her, and yes, they tell her they "hate her". They tell her she is a,"Freak" and "Weird" and all kinds of things and I really cant figure out why she has become a target unless its the whole Gifted thing and that she stands out from the crowd. I told her that she is weird. We are all weird in this family and we relish our weirdness. Where they are plain and boring and easily forgettable, she obviously sticks in their minds enough to bother them and that makes her interesting and uncommon and someone who is headed places better than them. I try to be supportive, but it is wearing on her. She told me today, "They said no one wants to play with me or be my friend and they told "B" not to play with me either or they wouldn't play with her."
I told her about what it was like for me growing up and that I was bullied and ostracized and while there were reasons for some of it,(I usually was dirty, smelled like cigarette smoke or a dirty house and I was a horribly arrogant smart ass), she doesn't have those reasons except for maybe the smart ass thing, and that it is survivable and sometimes those people grow up and years later look back at how horrible they were to you, and then they become better people and apologize and raise their children to be better people.I told her to consider that maybe she was being tested and that her suffering was part of her path to becoming a good person and helping them to become better people in the end.
Its not easy to tell her that stuff, the old me wants to teach her some really stealthy ju jitsu moves that will have those little shits crying on the ground without and mark on them and no idea what happened except for the smile on my daughters face, but then again, I am trying really hard to be a better person so my kid will win out in the end, but I swear by all that is holy, if that candy ass of a principal does not get this crap in hand by this next week, we will be having a talk and he will not like what I am going to be telling him.
Today was such a day. She thought it was pj day so she had worn a pair of leggings along with her boots and a very funky cool long sleeved t-shirt that you couldn't even tell was a pj top unless someone told you, and of course she took Jackson. I was at work around 930 when I got a call from her begging me to come get her. She said it was because her clothes were wrong, but I should have known it was more, her voice sounded tense and upset, and I could hear the principal rushing her in the background. I was swamped at work and it was pouring rain so I told her she would be fine in what she had on, that it was raining too hard to walk to the school to get her and then walk home. It bothered me to do it, but I did.
When she got home in the afternoon, I got the whole story, it wasn't just her clothes that were the problem. They had a substitute who essentially allowed the little pack of girls who harass her, to have free reign in the classroom, and when my daughter left the room to use the bathroom, one of the more hateful of the girls kidnapped Jackson and was swinging him around by his tail and calling my daughter names when she got back and demanded his return. Apparently the hysterics and threats were pretty ugly and dire.
She doesn't understand why they hate her, and yes, they tell her they "hate her". They tell her she is a,"Freak" and "Weird" and all kinds of things and I really cant figure out why she has become a target unless its the whole Gifted thing and that she stands out from the crowd. I told her that she is weird. We are all weird in this family and we relish our weirdness. Where they are plain and boring and easily forgettable, she obviously sticks in their minds enough to bother them and that makes her interesting and uncommon and someone who is headed places better than them. I try to be supportive, but it is wearing on her. She told me today, "They said no one wants to play with me or be my friend and they told "B" not to play with me either or they wouldn't play with her."
I told her about what it was like for me growing up and that I was bullied and ostracized and while there were reasons for some of it,(I usually was dirty, smelled like cigarette smoke or a dirty house and I was a horribly arrogant smart ass), she doesn't have those reasons except for maybe the smart ass thing, and that it is survivable and sometimes those people grow up and years later look back at how horrible they were to you, and then they become better people and apologize and raise their children to be better people.I told her to consider that maybe she was being tested and that her suffering was part of her path to becoming a good person and helping them to become better people in the end.
Its not easy to tell her that stuff, the old me wants to teach her some really stealthy ju jitsu moves that will have those little shits crying on the ground without and mark on them and no idea what happened except for the smile on my daughters face, but then again, I am trying really hard to be a better person so my kid will win out in the end, but I swear by all that is holy, if that candy ass of a principal does not get this crap in hand by this next week, we will be having a talk and he will not like what I am going to be telling him.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Dear Roger: Monkey Is A Bitch?
Bitch. Its a word I have had directed at me so many times I simply scoff and blow it off and quite often say," Yes, you figured out my middle name, so what?" But for the life of me, I cannot abide or understand what compels my son to call my 8 year old daughter by that name. She really doesn't deserve it. Shes not a bad kid at all. Yes, I quite often joke about her being,"Evil" or the ringleader of chaos, but quite honestly, she is a very loving, very sweet little girl who adores her big brother and cant quite understand why he gets so mad at her.
She thinks he hates her. She is on the fast track to believing all men are mean and will either yell at her to,"Go Away", ignore her, call her names like,"Bitch" or worse, destroy things she loves or take them away.
Its been a powder keg around my home again and I am sick and tired of it. My little girl does not deserve it, and I don't know what I am going to do about it. I regret soo many things with my elder son, I should have gotten him in counseling when everything first happened to us. I should have demanded he get help for all his anger, but instead I let him try to handle it himself, and unfortunately he has done a terrible job of it.
I have found myself reverting to some of my old behaviors, telling the younger kids to be quiet and not bother him, trying to stay out of his way and appease him because he is so much bigger than me, and when he is angry and I have to go to work I tell my daughter to stay out of his way and quietly message me via private message if hes,"Getting too mean." My stress has been through the roof and my migraines have been back in force, just like they were when I was living in the worst of it. At times he is relentless in his verbal abuse of me, calling me to task for every single shortfall he feels I have, every failing and mistake he feels I have made, he makes fun of my stutters or stress and then sarcastically belittles me when I get upset. It feels like sometimes my ex is standing there in front of me just trying to push me into a heart attack. Today he was so relentless my 10 year old son began screaming at him to stop.
He will be cruel and hateful and then a little while later he will attempt to be kind and helpful, (honeymoon period), to get what he wants, usually money or some treat or control of the tv.
He needs help. I am trying to get it for him, but I worry about my daughter and what she is going to think about men as she grows up, at times it feels like there is just no hope and that I have failed all the way around in protecting my children from not only monsters, but from themselves.
I've told her that the very next time he calls her,"Bitch" or any other horrible name, she is to post on her Facebook page, "I wonder if my brother calls his girlfriend,"Bitch" like he calls me, because if he does, that's not very nice." At least then I know our secret will be right in his pastors lap and maybe some man somewhere, will have some advice?
She thinks he hates her. She is on the fast track to believing all men are mean and will either yell at her to,"Go Away", ignore her, call her names like,"Bitch" or worse, destroy things she loves or take them away.
Its been a powder keg around my home again and I am sick and tired of it. My little girl does not deserve it, and I don't know what I am going to do about it. I regret soo many things with my elder son, I should have gotten him in counseling when everything first happened to us. I should have demanded he get help for all his anger, but instead I let him try to handle it himself, and unfortunately he has done a terrible job of it.
I have found myself reverting to some of my old behaviors, telling the younger kids to be quiet and not bother him, trying to stay out of his way and appease him because he is so much bigger than me, and when he is angry and I have to go to work I tell my daughter to stay out of his way and quietly message me via private message if hes,"Getting too mean." My stress has been through the roof and my migraines have been back in force, just like they were when I was living in the worst of it. At times he is relentless in his verbal abuse of me, calling me to task for every single shortfall he feels I have, every failing and mistake he feels I have made, he makes fun of my stutters or stress and then sarcastically belittles me when I get upset. It feels like sometimes my ex is standing there in front of me just trying to push me into a heart attack. Today he was so relentless my 10 year old son began screaming at him to stop.
He will be cruel and hateful and then a little while later he will attempt to be kind and helpful, (honeymoon period), to get what he wants, usually money or some treat or control of the tv.
He needs help. I am trying to get it for him, but I worry about my daughter and what she is going to think about men as she grows up, at times it feels like there is just no hope and that I have failed all the way around in protecting my children from not only monsters, but from themselves.
I've told her that the very next time he calls her,"Bitch" or any other horrible name, she is to post on her Facebook page, "I wonder if my brother calls his girlfriend,"Bitch" like he calls me, because if he does, that's not very nice." At least then I know our secret will be right in his pastors lap and maybe some man somewhere, will have some advice?
Friday, October 26, 2012
Dear Roger:The Monkey Struggles
Writers block sucks. Its probably the most depressing thing I have had to deal with in the past few years. I don't know what brought it on, but its starting to really wear on me. I've had occasional flashes and ideas but the flow I had has stopped cold and even the drive I had to edit my work has dried up. I don't have a clue as to what it would take to spark it back up again, not even the appearance of the boys who used to inspire me fairly often has helped. My tinnitus and migraines are back full force and my vision is horrible and with the Feebs,(FDA) holding up my glasses in Customs in Memphis for the past two weeks, its not been a happy fun time. I know what a large part of things are, and it is part in parcel tied into the torch I have carried for over a decade.
Things will be finally done soon, the dream achieved and I will be watching from afar. It has always been inevitable and I knew that, but I had kidded myself for a few years, that maybe the knight on the white horse would come riding up Burnside to tell me he wanted to be with me.
Heartbreak is the kind of mechanism that can either spur you to greatness with songs that move peoples souls and stories that change lives, or it can leave you a quivering mess that is not fit for human company. I am hovering somewhere in between. I have moments when I feel like I am going to be okay and life will roll along just fine, and then other moments when the enormity of the fact that I have been alone for over 3 years and that I will most likely continue to be alone, hits me and it takes me to my knees. I don't even try anymore and most of the time I am just numb inside so maybe its best I just keep trying to cope as I am, but I want to be able to write again. I don't know what I am going to do in order to coax my muse back around,
My life is getting better in many other ways, my job is going great, I have friends and I am building a social life so I can complain too much, but I do spend a lot of my time alone and I miss having straight, male company! I have all the gay male company I want, and while I adore them and would cuddle all they allow, its really not the same.
My kids try to encourage me to get out, but I don't see myself as having much to offer any potentials. I am an a control freak, I have odd habits and I really don't enjoy the bar scene though I like the music scene. I tend to not mingle well with my own age group and frankly, even I know I am strange and a bit judgmental. I have absolutely no tolerance for drunks, and find them to be pathetic so when I discovered that the last man I even remotely found interesting was into his cups before noon during the weekday, I was soo put off, that I just basically ignored him ever after, (see? Judgmental) I try not to be, but I guess when you don't NEED a companion, only WANT a companion, you get a hell of a lot more picky and less willing to put up with things you see as weakness.
I think I am in the wrong place to be this eccentric and desirous of male company.
Things will be finally done soon, the dream achieved and I will be watching from afar. It has always been inevitable and I knew that, but I had kidded myself for a few years, that maybe the knight on the white horse would come riding up Burnside to tell me he wanted to be with me.
Heartbreak is the kind of mechanism that can either spur you to greatness with songs that move peoples souls and stories that change lives, or it can leave you a quivering mess that is not fit for human company. I am hovering somewhere in between. I have moments when I feel like I am going to be okay and life will roll along just fine, and then other moments when the enormity of the fact that I have been alone for over 3 years and that I will most likely continue to be alone, hits me and it takes me to my knees. I don't even try anymore and most of the time I am just numb inside so maybe its best I just keep trying to cope as I am, but I want to be able to write again. I don't know what I am going to do in order to coax my muse back around,
My life is getting better in many other ways, my job is going great, I have friends and I am building a social life so I can complain too much, but I do spend a lot of my time alone and I miss having straight, male company! I have all the gay male company I want, and while I adore them and would cuddle all they allow, its really not the same.
My kids try to encourage me to get out, but I don't see myself as having much to offer any potentials. I am an a control freak, I have odd habits and I really don't enjoy the bar scene though I like the music scene. I tend to not mingle well with my own age group and frankly, even I know I am strange and a bit judgmental. I have absolutely no tolerance for drunks, and find them to be pathetic so when I discovered that the last man I even remotely found interesting was into his cups before noon during the weekday, I was soo put off, that I just basically ignored him ever after, (see? Judgmental) I try not to be, but I guess when you don't NEED a companion, only WANT a companion, you get a hell of a lot more picky and less willing to put up with things you see as weakness.
I think I am in the wrong place to be this eccentric and desirous of male company.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Dear Roger: Trigger
Life is still progressing in leaps and bounds. My job is really pushing me far out of my old comfort zone and forcing me to deal with things that sometimes bring back my old issues to the surface in ways that leave me struggling to not react in my old ways, but I have not retreated to my apartment to lurk behind my windows, hiding from the world, wrapped up in anger and stress over seeing a woman so badly beaten by an ex that her face is shattered and she is facing reconstructive surgery to rebuild it, instead I grimly went about putting measures in place to ensure she would be safe when she returned. I got a picture of the bastard off his mug shot and I made sure we had it handy if he ever gets released, but that doesn't seem likely because one thing I discovered about Oregon is they actually have a really great law here where there is NO BAIL for the type violence her and I have faced and the charges carry a MANDATORY 5 YEARS! Holy cow! A state where people have to actually answer for the things they do? I will believe it when I see it, but I hope for her sake it holds true. The amount of anger I felt after seeing her shocked me and I am probably lucky I didn't hear the assault go down because it would have been bad. I know in my heart I am capable of violence in defense of another, and I know that there are others here who would have gladly assisted me in her defense. We will help her rebuild herself, much like I have done over the past couple of years and hopefully she will start forward again, on to bigger and better things and she will have people who have been there, done that who are willing and able to help, even if its just to listen because sometimes that is all that is needed.
I am enrolling in classes in November. I guess that part is not too shocking, but what is the weird part for me is that they are business and management classes. I have never seen myself as much of a business type person, but this seems to be working for me and it also allows me some time to write and a little bit of freedom to still have a life with my kids.
My daughter is trying to grow up on me. That is the part that is really stressing me out lately. She has beautiful butt length, blonde, curly hair that I have helped her to nurture and care for her entire life. It has never been really cut, only the ends trimmed and its never been dyed or had anything done to it, but lately she has been asking quite often to try some coloring in it. It coincides with her home tattooing and other little body modifications that she has been experimenting with lately. After much thought and negotiation, I have finally decided she can have get her hair cut and she can try a color in it. I am not thrilled about it, but as a friend of mine so aptly pointed out, I have always encouraged her creativity and artistry in all kinds of ways, and she is growing up with a tattooed mother and influences who are not exactly Ozzie and Harriet, in fact nothing in her life has or probably ever will be anything less than slightly left of carnival life, so having colored hair at 8 is par for the course, but I am drawing the line at tattoos or piercing beyond the ears,(even she isn't sure she is ready for her ears to be done yet), so maybe this phase will pass and we will be back in pretty dresses and patent leather Mary Janes by spring, but considering she was totally okay with coloring Jackson's tail... I'm not going to hold my breath.
I am enrolling in classes in November. I guess that part is not too shocking, but what is the weird part for me is that they are business and management classes. I have never seen myself as much of a business type person, but this seems to be working for me and it also allows me some time to write and a little bit of freedom to still have a life with my kids.
My daughter is trying to grow up on me. That is the part that is really stressing me out lately. She has beautiful butt length, blonde, curly hair that I have helped her to nurture and care for her entire life. It has never been really cut, only the ends trimmed and its never been dyed or had anything done to it, but lately she has been asking quite often to try some coloring in it. It coincides with her home tattooing and other little body modifications that she has been experimenting with lately. After much thought and negotiation, I have finally decided she can have get her hair cut and she can try a color in it. I am not thrilled about it, but as a friend of mine so aptly pointed out, I have always encouraged her creativity and artistry in all kinds of ways, and she is growing up with a tattooed mother and influences who are not exactly Ozzie and Harriet, in fact nothing in her life has or probably ever will be anything less than slightly left of carnival life, so having colored hair at 8 is par for the course, but I am drawing the line at tattoos or piercing beyond the ears,(even she isn't sure she is ready for her ears to be done yet), so maybe this phase will pass and we will be back in pretty dresses and patent leather Mary Janes by spring, but considering she was totally okay with coloring Jackson's tail... I'm not going to hold my breath.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Dear Roger: Power Struggles,I Can Claim Temporary Insanity Due to Teenager Infestation
New parents of baby boys out there feeling all smug and self-satisfied that you dodged the bullet because you think that because you have only one dick to worry about, let me tell you a thing or two about a thing or two regarding that situation in which you now find yourself.
You think your little baby boy will be easier and less dramatic and less prone to bringing drama into your house? I say to you, "HA!!!" I used to believe the same thing. I thought that when I had my sons that life was going to be easy street, that I wouldn't ever have to worry about them getting hormonal, and moody over boys or overly dramatic and shrieking because someone disrespected some odd little actor/rock star or stuffed animal that was an iconic representation thereof, but let me tell you what,boys are just as weird and dramatic and horrible about things, and often they are more demonstrative in their feelings and destructive. They do stupid things like throw their video game controllers at hard surfaces and then wonder why they don't work, take apart their guitars and skateboards and all kinds of crap thinking they can make it better or,"Fix" it and then get upset with YOU when you don't understand the method to the madness of the laptop screen with the cardboard jammed in it.
If you have more than one boy in your house,(as do I), you might have the blend of the guy archetypes. I have the "Shy, sensitive, deep thinker that slow boils to explosions", the "Cocky jock who thinks he is the man of the house and reminds you enough of Eddie Haskell at times you want to scream" as well as the "Practical joker who finds every fart worth sharing with everyone at all times, especially in public as he blames it on you." I have all 3 types as well as my poor, long suffering daughter who is a blend of all three in one seemingly innocuous package,(dont believe it, not for one minute!), but there will be more on that another day. I do my best to cope, but I have learned to laugh at those who find out they are having a boy and actually seem relieved. I enlighten them with a few tales of some of the things my boys have done, as well as share some tales of adventures of some of my friends sons.
To be fair, most of the boys besides my sons are Texans, and that kinda skews the dynamic because growing up Texan and boy does up the ante for pure fuckery and insanity, but truck surfing, and nearly becoming road kill while running from the game warden can happen anywhere as well as riding a dirt bike off the side of an overpass, or through a barbed wire fence or blowing up a battery and nearly blinding oneself, jousting with Roman Candles,playing with Ronsol and Axe and setting their damn jeans on fire to the point they had to come home in their chones, ending up a hood ornament on a Prius due to a downhill run on a longboard that went a little wrong,as well as any number of things that have left parents I know as well as myself with enough grey hairs to keep Lady Clariol in business for the next century.
Little boys can be sweet and cute and all kinds of fun to raise, but if you think that first time they peed in your face was an accident, I say,"Woe unto you, that is yet a sign of things yet to come."
I tell you these things now while I still can as I spend a few hours trying to figure out just how my eldest son managed to make himself administrator of our home computer network and set it up so that he can shut off my damn computer and lock me and my Iphone out of all internet access. I used to think it was pretty cool he was such a genius at all things computers and self taught at all of it, kinda like his music habit where he taught himself how to play guitar and write music and all kinds of things. I have a feeling there will be a lot of ante upping over the next few days as we engage in our power struggle to establish the Alpha in this house. He may be a teen, but he knows very little about the true cost of war and living with a person who will go nuclear with the first strike.
You think your little baby boy will be easier and less dramatic and less prone to bringing drama into your house? I say to you, "HA!!!" I used to believe the same thing. I thought that when I had my sons that life was going to be easy street, that I wouldn't ever have to worry about them getting hormonal, and moody over boys or overly dramatic and shrieking because someone disrespected some odd little actor/rock star or stuffed animal that was an iconic representation thereof, but let me tell you what,boys are just as weird and dramatic and horrible about things, and often they are more demonstrative in their feelings and destructive. They do stupid things like throw their video game controllers at hard surfaces and then wonder why they don't work, take apart their guitars and skateboards and all kinds of crap thinking they can make it better or,"Fix" it and then get upset with YOU when you don't understand the method to the madness of the laptop screen with the cardboard jammed in it.
If you have more than one boy in your house,(as do I), you might have the blend of the guy archetypes. I have the "Shy, sensitive, deep thinker that slow boils to explosions", the "Cocky jock who thinks he is the man of the house and reminds you enough of Eddie Haskell at times you want to scream" as well as the "Practical joker who finds every fart worth sharing with everyone at all times, especially in public as he blames it on you." I have all 3 types as well as my poor, long suffering daughter who is a blend of all three in one seemingly innocuous package,(dont believe it, not for one minute!), but there will be more on that another day. I do my best to cope, but I have learned to laugh at those who find out they are having a boy and actually seem relieved. I enlighten them with a few tales of some of the things my boys have done, as well as share some tales of adventures of some of my friends sons.
To be fair, most of the boys besides my sons are Texans, and that kinda skews the dynamic because growing up Texan and boy does up the ante for pure fuckery and insanity, but truck surfing, and nearly becoming road kill while running from the game warden can happen anywhere as well as riding a dirt bike off the side of an overpass, or through a barbed wire fence or blowing up a battery and nearly blinding oneself, jousting with Roman Candles,playing with Ronsol and Axe and setting their damn jeans on fire to the point they had to come home in their chones, ending up a hood ornament on a Prius due to a downhill run on a longboard that went a little wrong,as well as any number of things that have left parents I know as well as myself with enough grey hairs to keep Lady Clariol in business for the next century.
Little boys can be sweet and cute and all kinds of fun to raise, but if you think that first time they peed in your face was an accident, I say,"Woe unto you, that is yet a sign of things yet to come."
I tell you these things now while I still can as I spend a few hours trying to figure out just how my eldest son managed to make himself administrator of our home computer network and set it up so that he can shut off my damn computer and lock me and my Iphone out of all internet access. I used to think it was pretty cool he was such a genius at all things computers and self taught at all of it, kinda like his music habit where he taught himself how to play guitar and write music and all kinds of things. I have a feeling there will be a lot of ante upping over the next few days as we engage in our power struggle to establish the Alpha in this house. He may be a teen, but he knows very little about the true cost of war and living with a person who will go nuclear with the first strike.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Dear Roger: Wake Me When September Ends? No, Try November
I've sat here for days with a half-assed, morose bit of poetry rolling around in my skull that I just cant seem to put together, and perhaps its due to the changing weather or the inevitable end of summer that I cant put my thoughts together, but I really have nothing against September, though I do really like that song and appreciate its sentiment. Its November that I wish would end, and soon. Its been like a long, protracted, suffering that has gone on much longer than it should and as sleep comes less and less easy, my temper becomes more and more short, I feel the slow build to the end and I know I am powerless to do anything other than stand back and watch what I know is bound to happen, happen. It will be my final answer, the end of everything and I will accept it and move forward, but I will mourn for the,"What might have beens" and what I wish could have happened in another lifetime.
It is a blessing and a curse, the cancer that will be going into its final remission though its unfortunate to think of it like that, in many ways its been a cancer that has been eating me from the inside for a long time, much like all good heartaches do to a person. When its over, I will have a drink and a smoke, put my boots on and walk out the door into a new day and a new mindset with it all behind me, knowing that the door is forever closed, and that may be the true sign of healing...if I can actually do it.
It is a blessing and a curse, the cancer that will be going into its final remission though its unfortunate to think of it like that, in many ways its been a cancer that has been eating me from the inside for a long time, much like all good heartaches do to a person. When its over, I will have a drink and a smoke, put my boots on and walk out the door into a new day and a new mindset with it all behind me, knowing that the door is forever closed, and that may be the true sign of healing...if I can actually do it.
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