Risk vs. Reward

The risk versus the reward.

Always a dilemma.

There are days when I soar

and there are days when I am so frightened

for my breakable little heart.

I don't know if I can take any more

I don't know if I'll have to

Risk v. Reward

I always stay

just to find out which

will win this time.

Mother's Day

So today I was trying to think of a gift for my mom for Sunday & asked my dad what he thought. His response was, "your mom actually doesn't want you to spend this Mother's Day celebrating her, she wants you & your sister to enjoy it for yourselves now." That would be super sweet and cool IF I WERE A MOTHER! But I'm not. I am waiting for the day when life is in the right place and my partner and I are ready as patiently as I can. Can we NOT make the maternal itch any worse please?? kthanks.

My external response was, "Well since Sarah is the only mother out of the 2 of us, I'll go ahead and keep celebrating mom."

Hope is My Worst Enemy

I need to write more, so here goes. Let's call this one a practice in reality-based fiction:

And just like that, I'm pretty sure it's over, or ending much sooner rather than later. He'll wait until after New Year's, but not too much longer. We will spend Valentine's Day apart. I will be living in my parents' basement cursing my stupid heart for being so open and breakable. I already am.

He will want to stay friends but I will need time. Then one day I'll run into him at some bar with a new brunette girl. It will hurt so much that I'll feel like my chest is splitting into a million pieces, but that only means it will heal more solidly - more scar tissue to hold it together.

These scars will be different from the others; the two long, jagged fault-lines in my heart. One from my ex-husband, and one from the man who was supposed to be my second, and last, husband.

These million tiny scars will bind together the two large ones to make a whole scar-tissue heart, and be the final proof that I am a 100% failure at love.

I should run like hell right now, but I probably won't. Hope is my worst enemy.

Dude! I'm Not Particularly Happy About my Mom Hijacking my Trip!

So, I wouldn't say that my mother and I have a complicated relationship. I would say my relationship with my mother is complicated. My mother is happily oblivious to the fact that the world really doesn't revolve around her, and that her actions are in fact very offensive at times. I am grumpily not oblivious to these lovely facts. I try to let it roll off my back, and I do love her dearly, but sometimes you just gotta get it out.

My wonderful, sweet, hilarious, beautiful big sister bought me a plane ticket last week so that I could fly to Colorado & visit her, my bro-in-law, and my beautiful niece. I am so eternally grateful, and can't wait to see them tomorrow. But, dude! I'm not particularly happy about my mom hijacking my trip!

Sissy called my mom solely out of excitement to tell her that we'd be visiting with each other for the 1st time in 6 months, and the first words out of Mom's mouth are, "Great! I'll see if I can get your father a plane ticket up from New Mexico that weekend!" And here my sister is just like "Uhhhh....OK." My sister paid nearly $500 for my ticket so that I could be there Friday, Saturday & part of Sunday. Not exactly a long trip. My sister is a school counselor, her husband doesn't make a great salary either. My mom? Over six figures. She could fly to Memphis to see me, or spend her own damn money and buy me a ticket, but instead she hijacks my two day long trip for herself.

Don't get me wrong. I am very happy to see my parents for the first time since December 2008, but really? Did it have to be the one weekend I am going to get to see my sister & niece? I haven't seen that cute little baby in 6 months. I'd like to spend some quality time. Instead, I get 1 day of uninterrupted time with them.

I have a few more Mommy Blogs ready to go, but I'll disperse them at different times; I don't want to overload y'all.

Shake Things Up

Have you ever felt like you just needed to shake things up? Like you just desperately need some kind of change to occur, and fast? I have that feeling so bad right now. Everything is so stagnant, everything is always the same. I get up, I shower, I go to the soul sucking job where I do the same monotonous tasks over and over, I come home, play with the dog, eat, Boyfriend comes home, we watch some TV, then we go to bed. It starts all over again the next day. Sometimes the order of things after work changes around, but pretty much it's the same routine every day.

Sometimes I wonder if the longing for change is a control thing. I have no control over anything in my job. I go in, and do my rote tasks, and wait for other people to tell me other rote tasks that need to be completed. In a way my ex-husband still controls my finances, since he talked/prodded me into buying a car I can barely afford, therefore I'm usually pretty damn broke. I go home to a wonderful man that I love very much, but who is not my husband, and I long so much for him to be my husband. Another thing that is completely out of my control. I live in a city that I had no intentions of living in for 8 whole freakin years but alas, I am broke, and don't want to leave Boyfriend so moving will only come with a new job for him. For now, none of these circumstances will change.

Now some may say, "Hey! That still sounds like a damn good life" and it is! Don't get me wrong. I am just a person who thrives on change, and new challenges and experiences. There is nothing new. Ever. And so contemplating how to make NEW happen. I guess I'm going to cut and/or color my hair. Superficial, but change nonetheless.

P.S. Any suggestions on the hair?

Massive Amounts of Globelike, Perky, Double D Tittage

So, dear readers, the last time I left off in the Divorce-Redneck Style story I had just taken back Redneck Redhead (RR) after he went MIA & lied his ass off. I guess we'll start from there.

So after the events of September things went back to fairly normal. . . until RR started working weird hours. Our house was literally 2 minutes from his place of employment, and he would leave for work at 7:58, but not come home until 8 or so at night. I started asking him if he could manage to come home earlier a few nights a week; maybe not run to the office & work all day so many Saturdays. He kept replying that it was part of his job. He worked in rail freight and the hours can be unpredictable, so I let it go for a while.

But then things just got worse. I was a teacher at the time, and y'all know all teachers go to bed at like 6 PM because we have to be up at the ass crack of dawn & (for me) deal with 150 hormonal freshman all day. All I wanted was an hour or so in the evenings with my husband. Was that too freakin much to ask??? Apparently yes.

RR started working later & later, sometimes coming home at 9 or 9:30. Really?? Somehow everyone else in the office went home to their families at a normal hour, but the office would not run if he wasn't there at all hours. (yeah, he had little man syndrome & thought he was sooo important) Sometimes he'd call in sick to work because his stomach was bothering him & I'd check & see that he'd looked at porn on the computer for 8 hours that day. Yeah, porn. Always the girls with massive amounts of wavy blond hair, and even more massive amounts of tittage. Globelike, perky, Double D tittage. They were all there, all ready to make his every desire come true.

These photoshopped, surgically enhanced beauties just sat there getting fucked, or looking pretty, never complaining that they were too tired. They would probably cook & clean just like he wanted me to, as well, if only they could jump out of the screen. (Of course, right after they let him blow his wad all over their pretty faces) Riiiiiight. . . Back then I couldn't see the photoshop & surgery, though; all I saw were girls prettier than me; better than me.

I became more and more insecure, the more time he spent with his "lady friends." It all came to a head one night whilst watching the Victoria's Secret Fashion show. Yeah, you read that right. Redneck Redhead claimed to be a follower of modeling careers. Hand-picking (in his mind) the girls from the catalogue who would make it to the fashion show, then move to the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition & so on. Yeah, you can't make shit like this up. You really, really can't. He was so obsessed with beauty, and I, being human and not a freakish supermodel, felt that I could never measure up to his standards.

Sooo. . . we're watching the show and he see's Adriana Lima, or Heidi Klum, or some other freakish bitch float down the catwalk and says, "Wow! She is so beautiful!" And then I lost my shit. It went a little something like this:

Me: Really? She's beautiful?

RR: Yeah. Why?

Me: Must be nice for her. I can't remember the last time you said I was beautiful.

RR: What are you talking about? I'm trying to watch the show.

Me: How is it that you can call some random woman on the TV that you've never met in your life beautiful, but you can't say it to your own wife?

RR: You used to be so confident. You were a lot more attractive then. What the fuck happened to you?

Me; I became really insecure because every day I see you looking at these women. These women who have perfect bodies & perfect breasts & perfect hair. And they don't complain, they just sit there looking pretty for you. I can't be them. I'm insecure because YOU MADE ME THIS WAY!!!

And then . . . he picked up the coffee table and threw it across the room. Yeah, I'll let that sink in. Again, you can't make this shit it up. I'll say it, because I know you're thinking it: How in the world did I end up trapped in the 7th circle of white trash hell? I'm really not sure.

So then I get freaked out. I'm crying; I call my mom and tell her what just happened and say I may need to come stay again for a while. I hang up. I try to pull myself together; try to figure out what my next move is, and of course he comes to me crying and apologizing, and saying it will never happen again (just like the time he punched the wall right next to my head when he was mad at his brother...another story, another time), but sometimes I just make him so mad, and push him too far.

I stay. A few days later he asks me if I'm happy, because he's not . .

I Am Blessed

Have you ever committed an act of kindness for someone for no other reason than to just to see the smile on their face? I do it a lot. I'm a sucker for smiles. It makes my day.

Sadly, there are some cynics around who say things like, "That was an awful lot of time/energy/money/effort you spent on so-and-so, would they have done the same for you??" My answer is often, "Yes, I guess it was, and I don't know; it doesn't really matter."

Kindness knows no conditions. Acting from the heart and expecting nothing in return is what we should all strive for daily. I am blessed to have people in my life who know this, and I am blessed to be able to give from my heart with no expectations.

Sometimes you have to stop & remember the good things.