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Friday, January 23, 2009

the curious case of baby supplies.

so i had this seriously crazy dream last night, that i feel the need to purge. here goes:
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i came home from school to find our home filled with baby supplies. it looked as if a baby was already here. i even saw the glass baby bottles that i wanna use when the time comes. cheryl walks in the living room with a shit eating grin upon her face and i'm looking at her like, wtf? she says that she couldnt wait to go buy the stuff, so she went ahead and did it. meanwhile i'm thinkin, okay, she's got issues. lol. we hadn't even begun trying in the dream, but here all the stuff was, in all their glory, spread about the house like the bliss had already begun. i remember feeling elated but a bit disappointed, as i wanted to help choose the things we were going to buy. it was definitely cool though.
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i know freud would have some analytical answers, and i'd be lying if i said i wasn't curious myself. i wonder what it means.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

house wife meanderings.

well today is a house cleaning day, so here i sit waiting on laundry. the normalcy can be comforting. last night, honey's mama put this stuff on my back that heats up to relax the muscles. well, amidst my intense cleaning, i got hot, therefore, i was sweating. (btw, i loathe sweating. its just plain nastiness.) this stuff has re-ignited, heating my back up to super hot levels. i cannot decide if it feels nice or if its painful.
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i've been contemplating returning to my writing. contemplating, only. i don't know if i still have "it." my imagination is more keen than ever, so i know that part won't fail me. i have so much pent up artistic juices in me, that i can't fart without some of it escaping. but i'm wanting to wait until we get moved into the new house to begin any new projects. its a bit frustrating, but i know its for the best. anyways, i must return to cleaning. peace out, homos.
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Tuesday, January 20, 2009

life's musings.

when pandora's box was opened, all the evil was released into the world. one thing remained; hope. it seems fitting to say bush was pandora; he opened the box of catastrophes. the dawn of a new era has begun. hope survives, and is currently thriving.
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my hometown got snow so my children had a snow day today. i know that made them happy as a fat kid eating cake. orangeburg never gets the good stuff. i.e., blazing thunderstorms and snow or ice. aye.
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after honey left for work, i was sitting here at the PC eating my supper when i heard a knock and somebody calling my name. i hollered hold on, so i could round the three amigos up and corral them into the safety of a bedroom. they were all barking like crazy. but when i looked outside in both the front and back yards, there was nothing or nobody. it freaked me out. the dogs heard it, because they reacted to it, so i know it wasn't just in my head. but man, that fucked with me somethin awful.
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i have been noticing another phenomena; shoes on the side of the highway or road. what the heck is up with this? i mean, and its never a pair of shoes, its always one lone shoe. seriously. the little bit of ocd that i do have, flips out everytime i see this occurrence. if you're going to trash your shoes, why not trash them as a pair? i also thought of this, what if they just fell off a vehicle? but how would that happen? you leave a shoe on the roof of your car? leave a shoe in the bed of your truck? or perhaps the old toss out the window? either way, it puzzles me. i know that i am not the only one who has observed this oddity, as my BFF has seen it also.
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just an fyi.

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warning: if you have little arms like me, it is not wise to help your wife unload a mattress off the back of your truck. (not that i know from personal experience or anything.)

Saturday, January 17, 2009

a mélange of incidental occurrences.

i have never been an easy one to love, or like, for that matter. in growing up, i hurt a lot of those who loved me dearly. the sheer weight of the guilt caused by my careless actions is immeasurable. now as i am creeping closer towards thirty, i am capable of realizing the pain i ruthlessly inflicted upon the people who once surrounded me. i accept my responsibility for my actions.
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but i emphasize; MY actions is what i take the brunt for. what i refuse to accept any longer is being made a target for someone blinded by rage and on the attack for something that i had nothing to do with whatsoever. for years and years, i defended her and empathized with her, perhaps even when uncalled for. a flaw on my part, evidently. naivety or a deluded sense of loyalty, i'm not sure which. the buck stops here. come at me and fight me for something i did, but viciously targeting me for something COMPLETELY out of my control is nothing short of stupid absurdity. it is summarized as easily as this: i did not put the alcohol in his hands that night, i did not put the keys in his hands, i did not do anything to cause the crash that was their demise.
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in truth i am sorry for what she has been through this past year, i have no doubts its been extremely rough for her. i get that. however, to get mad with me for speaking truths is plain idiotic. i bowed away, telling her if it makes her feel better, gives her any peace, she can make me her target. whatever helps her sleep at night. the fact of the matter is, karma roared loud and clear. its as simple as that.
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anyways. i have been witnessing a strange phenomena lately. so it seems that one of the rural roads nearest to us is a favorite road to cast away unwanted chairs. this truly puzzles me. seriously, think about it. how does one constitute a back road worthy enough to discard a tender, loving chair that has taken all of your abuse? a chair that has taken all of your abuse, without so much as one word of rejection towards you. oh the drama you have inflicted upon this chair!! the weight of all your years, your hot air, your shit, your stenches...your ass's punching bag, your ass's wing man... and this is the thanks that chair gets? this phenomena just fascinates me. it truly does.
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alas, honey and i did nothing all day yesterday. we sat and watched last season of the L Word. what the fuck happened to Jenny? seriously?! she was so HOT as crazy, vulnerable Jenny, but this bitchy Jenny can suck my balls. i'm SO rooting for Bette and Tina to reconnect. seems odd to root for the past, as opposed to the future. i reckon i'm an oddball romantic. in Dawson's creek, i always wanted joey and Dawson back together. (although i was secretly okay when she ended up with pace.) in friends, i was always eager for Rachael and Ross to get it together. so yeah, Bette and Tina had better get back together. (and by the by, my vote is on Alice for Jenny's murder.)
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today honey and i were supposed to go pick up our new bedroom suit from columbia. with the weather the way it is, its just not feasible right now. so most likely, i'll dibble around the house some, perhaps dab into some art, watch a little tv, etc. a nice lazy sunday. i tell ya what though, i'm past ready for my BFF to return SAFELY from europe. ugh. damnit!! anyways. i'm out.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

nothingness.


We live in illusion and the appearance of things. There is a reality. We are that reality. When you understand this, you see that you are nothing, and being nothing, you are everything. That is all.

Words have the power to both destroy and heal. When words are both true and kind, they can change our world.

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Friday, January 9, 2009

slightly.


"the only time i see you is when i need antibiotics for these stupid sinus infections," i said, very agitated. talking was hard to do. it was hard to hear if the words were exiting my mouth the way i was thinking them in my head. the relentless static in my head had become deafening, by this point. i'm not sure static is the correct adjective here, though. the best adequate description of the reverberating noise inside the walls of my skull were like that of a washing machine cleaning a full load, with its top open. you know; that whirling, round and round sound? yeah, that's the one.
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he takes a deep sigh and turns his head to my chart, flipping through the pages. "Dr. Daryn Stephans," as i'll call him for bloggosphere purposes, can't be 35, at the maximum. definately the anally retentive, type A, most likely OCD, nerd type of guy. he always has this perpetual look of grimace on his face. i have my theories on this: his wife probably irons and starches his underwear. maybe that's why he always has that strange look on his face, because she put too much starch on it and its digging a hole into his butt cheek. OR, she forgot to starch the pair he has on that day (that he conveniently wears EVERY TIME i see him), so he has the look on his face because he has a wedgy that'd make an elephant cry. OR finally, maybe the old prude just has to fart? i don't know. either way, he gave me my antibiotics and pain killers, then hooked me up with an allergist up in columbia.
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the package of instructions that arrived in the mail, from the allergist's office was clear on one very specific thing; NO anti-histamines for 7 days prior to the appointment. jesus. that's denying crack from your neighborhood toothless crack whore. its cruel, is what it is. cruel and unusual punishment. denny crane and alan shore, hello? supreme court, part tres!!
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the day of my appointment rolls around, and somehow by the grace of the stars above, between the anti-biotics and pain meds, it kept any sinus headaches at bay. honey and i get back into the little room they stashed me away in. and in walks the doctor.
okay. stop. you know those people who have perfect teeth? perfectly straight and perfectly white... they glisten with perfection? they dazzle me. seriously. i even once had a teacher who had these teeth, and i could barely pay attention to her lectures, because her teeth mesmerized me. like a damn spell, it had me from hello. anyways, back to my mister allergy doctor. picture this; perfectly combed hair, perfectly pressed outfit, beautiful teeth, and gay man lips. yes i said it; gay man lips. think angelina's lips made for a man. there ya go, folks. that's one of my secret obsessions. gay man lips who have perfect teeth. its like the lips are perfectly fit for the teeth, the way they blanket them, like the waves to the shore.
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is there any doubt as to why i'm currently in therapy? no. i didn't think so.
back to mister gay doctor man. he said i had to have skin tests run to see exactly what it is that i'm allergic to. after the nurse drew a chart on my back, i felt like my back looked like that connect the dots game. she scratched some stuff onto my back, and honey and i sat there for a few minutes passing both gas and time. then came time to run the skin tests on my arm. HOLY. MARY. MOTHER. OF. GOD. JESUS, WHO ART IN HEAVEN. she made her way around to the back of my arm with her little connect the dots chart, and i swear, the needles going into that arm fat. holy shit does NOT describe my sentiments at that very moment.
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turns out that all of that torture was in vain, as i "only had a slight reaction to dust mites." slight. a slight reaction. let me make you feel what it feels like to be slightly keeled over in throbbing groin pains. slightly.
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after that catastrophe has subsided, i get a voice mail stating that mister gay doctor man has found something after re-evaluating my files and needs me to return so he can speak with me. fine, asshole. i'll return.
but bring the needles out, and then you'll see a mister gay doctor man with one less testicle. slightly, that is. just slightly.
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Monday, January 5, 2009

a fart of relief.

i successfully made it through the first anniversary without coming unglued. i guess i just didn't give myself enough credit. i don't know what i expected to happen. i mean, really.
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its like when my Nana died, one year later exactly, i sat at my Mama's kitchen table looking at that clock by the phone, and a few minutes after 6 pm, i sat and waited, waiting for that phone to ring. it was going to ring, and the voice on the other end of the line would magically undo that entire year like a bad nightmare. that voice would say, "hey sarah, its ok. your Nana's back, go on and see her." i sat there, and sat there. and the phone never rang. 7 pm came and went, and not a single, solitary ring. the nightmare was real.
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that was 1998 and this is 2009. my anticipatory anxiety manifested itself via a dream, where i paid the graveyard boocoo's of money to dig three feet of dirt up above his casket, pour in a foot of concrete, then cover it back up with dirt. today my therapist said that dream was equivalent to a rape victim re-living their nightmare over and over until they begin to heal, and subconsciously, they fight back their attacker. in my case, i was making sure the son of a bitch wasn't coming back. that night, the phone didn't ring, much to my relief. holding your breath for a year is strenuously hard.
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christmas came and went. we survived it. the house didn't burn down. no familial fights that shed any blood. although, there were a few that looked to promise it. i spent time with my family mostly, but saw some friends too. my white butt sat promptly down or lied in a bed or on a couch for most of the time. i was sick for crimmus. i jetted back to the oburg for two days for a doctor's appointment, wherein i reacted wonderfully to the antibiotic. i can handle anything when it comes to being sick...but give me a sliver of nausea and thats all she wrote. after the boy and i returned to florence, there were a few couches which i decorated new years eve and day.
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by the time i came home to my honey, i was ready. i missed our house, our routine, our bed,....and her, ofcourse! my BFF, ashes, came to see us for the night this weekend. she and i relaxed and talked, nothin strenuous. we decorated some light switch covers that i bought. mosaic glass, to be exact. i felt so knowledgeable showing Ashes how to cut glass. (thanks to my mosaic art teacher that i had!) ours aren't nearly as good as hers, but we sure had fun doing them. i did the third one by myself. it was relaxing. quite cathartic. more and more i feel a gravitational pull towards art. i find myself accumulating so many art things that i'm itching to go ahead and start stock piling them in my art room in the new house.
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which, by the way, is coming along quite nicely. honey and pops are in the midst of the cabinet situation. our "painter" (and i use the noun loosely) finished painting my art room. the ceiling in purple and the wall with the window is navy. its funky. i'll paint stars on the ceiling. pops thinks we ruined a perfectly good room. i gave it personality, me thinks.
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i feel okay about things. i really do. i see that inner peace can...and WILL... be achieved by me. my monster is gone. i have a wife, a dysfunctionally amazing family, a litter of semi retarded pets, and the greatest best friends a girl could ask for. i know most importantly, though, that i will be okay. i am okay.