Well, it's that time of year again! Time to tease and torment my English friend with the Fourth of July, AKA, Independence Day!
I haven't always been that big about celebrating the Fourth of July. At least, not since I was a kid. I enjoy the food, and the picnics, and the summer weather, and the pretty fireworks. But that's about as far as my interest in this particular holiday goes. Still, I must confess, that since I've become friends with Mick, I have begun to look forward with much glee to this holiday! How I enjoy correcting him on the historical inaccuracies he learned as a boy back in England!
For instance, one year Mick told me that Yankee Doodle Dandee was written by the Confederates during the civil war. While I acknowledged that the Confederates did enjoy singing that song as a way of insulting the North, I was quick to point out that Yankee Doodle Dandee was actually written by the British during the American Revolution (or the American Rebellion, as they call it back in the UK).
One year Mick was complaining about Americans poor use of the English language. Normally I would agree with him, generally speaking (don't tell him that), but being as it was the week of Independence Day, I was inclined to disagree. His particular complaint was that Americans drop the 'h' when saying 'herb'. He complained with great annoyance that we were trying to sound like the French by dropping the 'h'. I responded by reminding him that were it not for the assistance of the French, the Americans would never have defeated the British during the American Revolution. So, Americans agreed to forever drop the 'h' from the word 'herb', in order to honor the sacrifices they made for us during that time. Heh heh heh! This is of course a ridiculous fiction, but it worked like a charm! The following is an exact quote of the outburst it incited from Mick:
"Oh, #*%^(#@@!! That's the biggest bunch %&$^(@#$ !! It's #*%)^ of rubbish @*%)$! @*#) bloody hell #*%()^%(!!!! Yankee @#*%( bunch of *%(^%()!!"
My favorite thing is to quote the lyrics from Johnny Horton's Battle of New Orleans (the American version, of course) to him! How I love to remind him how the bloody British ran squealing back to England with their tails between their legs!!
I get to pay him back in one week for an entire year of his smart ass, dry, English sense of humor that he frequently uses against me (and many other poor such Americans as myself, I'm sure). I love it!
Ah, it's all in good fun. He's a good friend, and I appreciate that he tolerates me giving him a week of hell once a year.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Malaise
Ugh.
I feel like I've been run over by a truck. My throat hurts, my nose is stuffy, I'm extremely tired. I feel weak. I hope this passes soon. I would hate to get a cold in July for Christ's sake!
I don't want to be at work today. I want to go home and snuggle up on the couch with my cat.
I feel like I've been run over by a truck. My throat hurts, my nose is stuffy, I'm extremely tired. I feel weak. I hope this passes soon. I would hate to get a cold in July for Christ's sake!
I don't want to be at work today. I want to go home and snuggle up on the couch with my cat.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Cagey Bitch
After my ranting post the day before yesterday, I've done some thinking. A lot of thinking, actually. This is not to indicate that I didn't think before I blogged. It's just that I've done further thinking on the subject since then.
What I wrote was harsh, and sounded actually pretty angry. It was also a post shaded with more than a little suspicion. While I admit that at the time I wrote it I was rather annoyed, I would like to clarify some things.
Firstly, I wasn't angry. I guess what I wrote was more about expressing outloud, and publicly, things that I didn't feel I could effectively express three years ago. There were so many rumors (lies) circling around about the situation then, and I was very hurt. I was hurt and humiliated, and I had alot of other priorities I was dealing with at that time (my house caught on fire and I lost my job).
With the exception of a few angry e-mails and a couple of late night drunken phone calls, I pretty much withdrew from the entire mess. I never really felt that I had any vindication or validation for any of what was done to me or any of the feelings I had regarding the situation. It seemed like I was looked at as the problem by those who only heard one (dishonest) side of the story. Most people didn't know about the deception that had been going on, or the way my thoughts and feelings were deliberately toyed with. I was the crazy one who just couldn't 'get over it'.
I am not filled with hate or anger regarding this person or that situation. My feelings toward all of it now are rather indifferent, aside perhaps from some slight annoyance at his apparent expectation that I not only forgive, but forget what he did. To me forgiveness is about letting go of hateful, angry feelings. I can say honestly that I have done that.
The situation still feels out of balance to me. It's because the one thing that is still festering in the back of my mind is that I have yet to see him display genuine remorse for what he did. It's like he's incapable of empathy. In fact, in his blogs, he makes fun of women he's dated and calls their intelligence into question because of the fact that they were willing to date him in the first place. As if they have some sort of magical ability to see inside his heart and know what he'll do before he does it. He deliberately toys with them, but it's somehow their fault. It's their own fault because they were dumb enough to go out with him, right?
I see no remorse. I suppose I never will.
The good thing is that I am older and wiser now. I learned from what happened. I learned at great emotional expense, but still, I learned. After a person is treated in such a disrespectful, cold, and down right mean way, (especially if it happens on more than one occasion) they tend to become...cagey. That's how I feel. I feel like I have to be a cagey bitch when it comes to this person. If he doesn't like it I guess he can blame himself, because it's his fault. It's because of the way he has treated me in the past.
Most women in my place would never have even spoken to him again. Perhaps the fact that I even talk to him makes me an utter fool. Perhaps it makes me as dumb as he says in his blogs. I'm not really sure. What I am sure of is that I am distrustful.
I am distrustful, and rightfully so.
What I wrote was harsh, and sounded actually pretty angry. It was also a post shaded with more than a little suspicion. While I admit that at the time I wrote it I was rather annoyed, I would like to clarify some things.
Firstly, I wasn't angry. I guess what I wrote was more about expressing outloud, and publicly, things that I didn't feel I could effectively express three years ago. There were so many rumors (lies) circling around about the situation then, and I was very hurt. I was hurt and humiliated, and I had alot of other priorities I was dealing with at that time (my house caught on fire and I lost my job).
With the exception of a few angry e-mails and a couple of late night drunken phone calls, I pretty much withdrew from the entire mess. I never really felt that I had any vindication or validation for any of what was done to me or any of the feelings I had regarding the situation. It seemed like I was looked at as the problem by those who only heard one (dishonest) side of the story. Most people didn't know about the deception that had been going on, or the way my thoughts and feelings were deliberately toyed with. I was the crazy one who just couldn't 'get over it'.
I am not filled with hate or anger regarding this person or that situation. My feelings toward all of it now are rather indifferent, aside perhaps from some slight annoyance at his apparent expectation that I not only forgive, but forget what he did. To me forgiveness is about letting go of hateful, angry feelings. I can say honestly that I have done that.
The situation still feels out of balance to me. It's because the one thing that is still festering in the back of my mind is that I have yet to see him display genuine remorse for what he did. It's like he's incapable of empathy. In fact, in his blogs, he makes fun of women he's dated and calls their intelligence into question because of the fact that they were willing to date him in the first place. As if they have some sort of magical ability to see inside his heart and know what he'll do before he does it. He deliberately toys with them, but it's somehow their fault. It's their own fault because they were dumb enough to go out with him, right?
I see no remorse. I suppose I never will.
The good thing is that I am older and wiser now. I learned from what happened. I learned at great emotional expense, but still, I learned. After a person is treated in such a disrespectful, cold, and down right mean way, (especially if it happens on more than one occasion) they tend to become...cagey. That's how I feel. I feel like I have to be a cagey bitch when it comes to this person. If he doesn't like it I guess he can blame himself, because it's his fault. It's because of the way he has treated me in the past.
Most women in my place would never have even spoken to him again. Perhaps the fact that I even talk to him makes me an utter fool. Perhaps it makes me as dumb as he says in his blogs. I'm not really sure. What I am sure of is that I am distrustful.
I am distrustful, and rightfully so.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Do I Have Stupid Written on my Forehead?
Or maybe it says "Use me" instead.
Why do people assume that because I am civil, and nice, and friendly, that I have somehow completely lost my memory?
Why do they assume that because I choose not to dwell on the unkind things that they have said and done to me in the past, and have decided to let go of anger and hurtful feelings, that I have amnesia?
I am not foolish enough to believe that because someone who mistreated me in the past is now friendly and 'nice' to me, that their deep set behavior patterns have changed. Just because someone doesn't like the idea of another person hating them, or being perpetually angry with them, doesn't necessarily mean that they are sorry for the hurtful things they did in the past. To this day, there has been no explanation for why I was treated so cruelly. That's ok. Some people are just ass holes. I realize this.
I remember perfectly well the selfish, cruel, nasty things that were done to me. I remember how I was lied to repeatedly and used for people's selfish purposes. And I also remember quite clearly their icy indifference to my suffering after.
I remember how one person in particular who was too ashamed to acknowledge me to his friends. He wasn't too ashamed to have me spend time with him and his child (in private of course), and he wasn't too ashamed to have sex with me, but he sure didn't want his ol' buddies down the street to know! This person looked down on me because I have a spiritual belief system, and because I had not yet finished college and obtained a degree. That must have been why I was so easily pushed to the side for someone who had a master's degree. This someone was sneaky and dishonest with a criminal record and a sexually transmitted disease, but by god they had a degree, so they were good enough to be called his girlfriend! (When I told him I knew her, I wasn't kidding.)
I remember how my house caught fire and I was homeless almost over night, and this person who claimed he cared about me didn't even come over to make sure I was still alive. I remember calling him from the hospital and begging him to please throw away the letter I had written him without reading it, because it no longer mattered. I remember like it was yesterday how that person coldly refused. Coldly refused, even though by his own admission he had no romantic feelings for me. He kept and read that letter for the sheer purpose of tormenting me.
Yet now, now that I have been fortunate enough to have earned a wonderful opportunity to publish my writing, this same, cold hearted person is oh so very interested in my progress with my book. He even asked if I wanted to put one of his 'limericks' in it.
Funny. He didn't seem so interested in me or my poems three years ago when he refused to pay for my beer, even though he was having sex with me, and lied to everyone about it because he was ashamed of me and believed he was SO intellectually superior. He didn't seem to care about me or my writing when I asked what I meant to him and he said that he 'enjoyed sleeping with me'. He didn't seem so interested in the poems that I wrote when he was banging the above mentioned peach with the masters degree.
Now little ol' crazy me (as he used to call me behind my back) without so much as a bachelor's degree writes good enough that a publisher actually wants to print it. Wow he sure didn't see that coming three years ago now did he? I let him read a few of my pieces and he had a hearty laugh, and then dumped me (hmmm...not sure how that happened since he says we were never together in the first place). He sure doesn't have much of an eye for talent, does he?
Well, this is for him. I've got his number, now. I know exactly what he is about. He just wants to use me again. Use me for something different, but use me just the same. He's hoping that once my book is published, he'll have the inside track. He figures I'll help him publish his writing.
So here I am, left wondering if the booze has finally pickled his brain and HE has amnesia, or if he thinks I have forgotten everything that he did to me. Or perhaps he actually thinks that I am so stupid that I don't see what he's about.
Either way, it doesn't matter. I am far from stupid. I've always been more intelligent and perceptive than he ever realized, and I have forgotten nothing. I remember every word; every lie. I remember every humiliating moment when my pride was so coldly crushed beneath his heel. I remember how every hot, bitter tear felt as it fell from my eye and slid down my cheek when I cried in the darkness alone.
Just because I am healed, and just because I have put it behind me, doesn't mean I don't remember it. And it doesn't mean I would be stupid enough to let him use me again. Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. I will never forget.
You know I was all about being nice and civil and friendly and putting the past behind me. And you know what? I'm still all about that. Life's too short for bitterness (that's why you write ranting blogs like this so you get it out and don't let it fester inside your soul). If I see him, I'll smile and say hi. I'll even have a laugh with him over a beer some night if I happen to be drinking in the same place he is.
Still, I'd like to be clear on one thing.
I know exactly what his repeated inquiries into the progress of my book are really about. It's not about his joy at my success. It's not because he cares how I feel or wishes me the best and wants to witness it because he is happy when I am happy. When he writes me, he doesn't ask how I am, or how life is treating me. He only asks about my book; because, you see, it's about him. It's about getting something that he wants. It's always been about him.
So, forgive me if I am not interested in helping out the man who broke my heart, humiliated me, and exposed me to an incurable STD. (And he should consider himself lucky that I was not infected. It seems there must be some kind of higher power after all, and it was looking out for me when those who should have been, weren't.)
If he wants to publish his writing, he can do what the rest of us do. He can get it done on his own merits.
If he can.
Why do people assume that because I am civil, and nice, and friendly, that I have somehow completely lost my memory?
Why do they assume that because I choose not to dwell on the unkind things that they have said and done to me in the past, and have decided to let go of anger and hurtful feelings, that I have amnesia?
I am not foolish enough to believe that because someone who mistreated me in the past is now friendly and 'nice' to me, that their deep set behavior patterns have changed. Just because someone doesn't like the idea of another person hating them, or being perpetually angry with them, doesn't necessarily mean that they are sorry for the hurtful things they did in the past. To this day, there has been no explanation for why I was treated so cruelly. That's ok. Some people are just ass holes. I realize this.
I remember perfectly well the selfish, cruel, nasty things that were done to me. I remember how I was lied to repeatedly and used for people's selfish purposes. And I also remember quite clearly their icy indifference to my suffering after.
I remember how one person in particular who was too ashamed to acknowledge me to his friends. He wasn't too ashamed to have me spend time with him and his child (in private of course), and he wasn't too ashamed to have sex with me, but he sure didn't want his ol' buddies down the street to know! This person looked down on me because I have a spiritual belief system, and because I had not yet finished college and obtained a degree. That must have been why I was so easily pushed to the side for someone who had a master's degree. This someone was sneaky and dishonest with a criminal record and a sexually transmitted disease, but by god they had a degree, so they were good enough to be called his girlfriend! (When I told him I knew her, I wasn't kidding.)
I remember how my house caught fire and I was homeless almost over night, and this person who claimed he cared about me didn't even come over to make sure I was still alive. I remember calling him from the hospital and begging him to please throw away the letter I had written him without reading it, because it no longer mattered. I remember like it was yesterday how that person coldly refused. Coldly refused, even though by his own admission he had no romantic feelings for me. He kept and read that letter for the sheer purpose of tormenting me.
Yet now, now that I have been fortunate enough to have earned a wonderful opportunity to publish my writing, this same, cold hearted person is oh so very interested in my progress with my book. He even asked if I wanted to put one of his 'limericks' in it.
Funny. He didn't seem so interested in me or my poems three years ago when he refused to pay for my beer, even though he was having sex with me, and lied to everyone about it because he was ashamed of me and believed he was SO intellectually superior. He didn't seem to care about me or my writing when I asked what I meant to him and he said that he 'enjoyed sleeping with me'. He didn't seem so interested in the poems that I wrote when he was banging the above mentioned peach with the masters degree.
Now little ol' crazy me (as he used to call me behind my back) without so much as a bachelor's degree writes good enough that a publisher actually wants to print it. Wow he sure didn't see that coming three years ago now did he? I let him read a few of my pieces and he had a hearty laugh, and then dumped me (hmmm...not sure how that happened since he says we were never together in the first place). He sure doesn't have much of an eye for talent, does he?
Well, this is for him. I've got his number, now. I know exactly what he is about. He just wants to use me again. Use me for something different, but use me just the same. He's hoping that once my book is published, he'll have the inside track. He figures I'll help him publish his writing.
So here I am, left wondering if the booze has finally pickled his brain and HE has amnesia, or if he thinks I have forgotten everything that he did to me. Or perhaps he actually thinks that I am so stupid that I don't see what he's about.
Either way, it doesn't matter. I am far from stupid. I've always been more intelligent and perceptive than he ever realized, and I have forgotten nothing. I remember every word; every lie. I remember every humiliating moment when my pride was so coldly crushed beneath his heel. I remember how every hot, bitter tear felt as it fell from my eye and slid down my cheek when I cried in the darkness alone.
Just because I am healed, and just because I have put it behind me, doesn't mean I don't remember it. And it doesn't mean I would be stupid enough to let him use me again. Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. I will never forget.
You know I was all about being nice and civil and friendly and putting the past behind me. And you know what? I'm still all about that. Life's too short for bitterness (that's why you write ranting blogs like this so you get it out and don't let it fester inside your soul). If I see him, I'll smile and say hi. I'll even have a laugh with him over a beer some night if I happen to be drinking in the same place he is.
Still, I'd like to be clear on one thing.
I know exactly what his repeated inquiries into the progress of my book are really about. It's not about his joy at my success. It's not because he cares how I feel or wishes me the best and wants to witness it because he is happy when I am happy. When he writes me, he doesn't ask how I am, or how life is treating me. He only asks about my book; because, you see, it's about him. It's about getting something that he wants. It's always been about him.
So, forgive me if I am not interested in helping out the man who broke my heart, humiliated me, and exposed me to an incurable STD. (And he should consider himself lucky that I was not infected. It seems there must be some kind of higher power after all, and it was looking out for me when those who should have been, weren't.)
If he wants to publish his writing, he can do what the rest of us do. He can get it done on his own merits.
If he can.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Music!
Last weekend (after I finally had my beautiful dragonfly tattooed on my foot) I invested in some much needed music.
1. Johnny Cash (box set)
2. Neko Case "Middle Cyclone"
I must say, I love them both! I LOVE Johnny Cash!!!
Of course, how can you NOT like Johnny Cash? Seriously!
Oh, and I love my dragonfly too!
1. Johnny Cash (box set)
2. Neko Case "Middle Cyclone"
I must say, I love them both! I LOVE Johnny Cash!!!
Of course, how can you NOT like Johnny Cash? Seriously!
Oh, and I love my dragonfly too!
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