Please Don’t Leave Me!

September 1st, 2009

Geez… you can’t just disappear for weeks without spam completely taking over your blog anymore.  What’s up with that?!  I really need a better way of dealing with spam, but I don’t want to make the two people still reading me have to jump through too many hoops.  Otherwise they may stop coming here like everyone else!  Any suggestions?

So anyway.  We’re still only semi-settled here in the great hot state of Georgia.  My father-in-law says I always bring my Kentucky weather with me when I come down here except this time  he’s not complaining.  Apparently they need the loads of rain that followed me down.  However, now that I’m here permanently, I’m not sure what/who he’ll blame the weather on anymore!

The kiddos are finally beginning to settle into their new schools, and since this is where my husband began his career, he’s already fairly comfortable.  I seem to be mourning a bit more than normal.  Usually I’m the first one to jump right in when it comes to a major change like this, but I think I’m getting too old for this stuff.

I don’t even know where to begin.  So many things have happened.  I’m still sifting through it all trying to find my sanity.  I really only blogged this morning to scream “I’m still here!  Don’t leave me!”  I’ll be catching up on everyone really soon.  I’ve missed this world.  I want life to slow down so I can come back, dammit!

Life is a Highway… Really?

July 22nd, 2009

I once told someone that God doesn’t speak to you with billboards.  That faith, of any kind, most of the time has to be searched out a little.  It doesn’t come easily, and sometimes you just have to wait for the feeling.  You have to listen for the silence and look toward the invisible.  It’s so hard to explain to a logical analytical mind.  The weird thing about my life is that will all my flighty notions and daydreaming and fluttering faith, I’ve always found myself in the company of scientific minds.  People who refuse to believe in things they cannot smell, taste, touch, and feel.  The people I’ve been closest to in my life, the ones I’ve loved the strongest have been people who look at me with disbelief and concern when I talk of faith, fate, cosmic signs and what-if…  I dated a guy once who thought I needed therapy because I totally believe in karma.  He also wanted to screw me every time I talked about it… so who needed the therapy  more?

However, maybe I’ve been wrong.  Not technically wrong, but I’m beginning to think God doesuse billboards, sort of.  Looking back on my life thus far, I can see times where now it’s obvious someone higher up was practically using billboards, flashing lights, neon signs, and sirens to get me down a particular path.  And since I believe in free will, the stubborn dumbass that I am usually decides to do things my way, anyway.  That means I take the road less traveled and fight and claw my way through usually only to end up where the signs were pointing from the beginning.

I think it might be happening again.  But dammit it all to hell, I just don’t want to.  I’ve fought and worked so hard to reach this place in my life, and I don’t want to turn it upside down again.  The younger me was always looking, searching for what might be around the next corner.  She  never had a problem with packing a bag and tying herself to that red balloon for lift off to land anywhere the wind blew.  But there isn’t that much of her left in the woman that I am now.  Somewhere along the way I began to like seeing the same people every day, knowing what was coming my way for the entire week, being a wife and mother… PTA meetings, football games, family BBQs, nosey neighbors…  I’d stopped missing the lure of the open road, the fascination with the surprises waiting around the bend.  I wasn’t getting bored or feeling smothered.  I honestly thought this here and now was going to be my forever. 

I guess the reality of being me is that this is normal.  Technically, continuing on with the status quo would be the easy thing to do, and everyone knows, I can’t possibly do things the easy way.  I have to make it just as difficult as possible so when I fuck up, I fuck up royally.  The situation that I’m eluding to, I can’t give details yet because I don’t know them.  What I do know is my heart is both breaking and beating out of control.  My mind is spinning out of control, and my emotions are drowning me.  I’m angry, hurt, frustrated, scared, heartbroken, nervous, defeated, excited,  hopeful, confrontational, shy, hysterical, subdued… you name it, I’m feeling it.

To whom it may concern:  If you really want this to happen, you’d better rent the damn billboard because that’s the only way I’m gonna believe this shit.

I hate stupid people

July 10th, 2009

I was reading one of the blogs I like to visit, and her title made me think of a discussion I had with the social butterfly last week.  The cool blog’s post had nothing to do with my sudden violent feelings, there was just one simple word in the title that took me back to the anger I felt last week.  Anger, because I hate stupid people. 

The blog is written by Florida Girl in Sydney, and this particular post is titled “Ants in my Pants and Slugs in my Uggs”.  (You should go read her sometime, she’s great.)

Anyway, maybe it just speaks to how weak minded I am and how easily my buttons are  pushed sometimes.  When it happens, I suppose the redneck in my blood comes shining through, and I just want to kick someone. 

I’ll stop rambling and tell you the story.  As you probably know, I am very proud of the social butterfly.  She’s a good kid.  And because she’s such a well-rounded girl, we allow her to make certain decisions about her life and self, even if we don’t always agree with them.  She wears her hair the way she wants, sometimes her skirts are a bit short, and her eyeliner is a bit dark.  Recently, after months of debate, I let her get a Monroe piercing.  Just to represent the compromises a bit better, I’ll tell you, I wouldn’t buy her the sweats with words across her ass, I refused the tattoo, and all her shirts are required to meet the top of her jeans. 

She has a cousin that she likes to visit every once in a while.  Well, she tells herself she wants to get to know this cousin, but it seems like every time she comes back from that house, she regrets going.  For some reason, even tho the parents disagree with almost every single aspect of the butterfly’s personality, they seem to love her.  They’re constantly calling for her to visit, etc.  This last time she was there, they were discussing her piercing, and she said they didn’t seem to be too upset by it.  Yet, while talking about girls’ appearances and such, they got onto subjects such as, “… those giant hoop earrings that girls wear are called ‘whore hoops’…”, and they “… won’t buy Brittany Uggs because only skanks wear Uggs…”  (huh?!)  When the butterfly said she couldn’t understand how they could judge someone based on the footwear, all I could think to say was, “Don’t be ridiculous.  Skanks can’t afford Uggs.”  Brittany told her mom I said that.  I’m still waiting to see if the butterfly gets invited back.

They think they’re being such great parents with all their rules and regulations but they haven’t even stopped to realize that the cage they have this kid in is the exact cage the mom was in when she got fed up and ran away to get married at seventeen.  They also don’t realize if they think they’re influencing the butterfly any with this crap, they’re wrong.  Knowing her the way I do, the next time they see her, her earrings will be even bigger and she’ll most definitely be wearing her Uggs.