The Republican Debate

My takeaway from the debate last night was that a bunch of white men want to tell women what they can and cannot do with their bodies. They all want to defund Planned Parenthood, which, by the way, does mostly counseling, STD testing, cancer screenings, and sex education. The abortion services they provide consist of 3%, which are not funded by the US government. So why is every Republican candidate so insistent on defunding Planned Parenthood? Do they want to tell women what they should and should not be doing with their bodies? Because that’s what I got from this. You little ladies don’t know any better and us white men are going to tell you what’s right and what’s wrong and don’t you worry your pretty little heads about it.

Honestly. It makes me crazy that these are the candidates the Republican party is putting forth.

Go Bernie, is all I can say.


I started a new job last week and I have to say, my depression lifted immediately. I think being laid off did a number on my screwy brain. The new job is lovely and the people are nice and I really, really like what they’re doing. I’m going to be managing their social media, doing some marketing, and doing general administrative stuff.

Home life is also going well. One child is off camping, so it’s just me and the youngest, and we are really liking being lazy and watching bad movies and TV shows.

I’m trying to not think about when my brain is going to nosedive again. I find that if I start thinking about it and waiting for the other shoe to drop, I will slide into depression faster than I normally would. Keeping myself distracted with reading, knitting, and binge-watching shows helps, even if it doesn’t keep my house very tidy.

I took this photo last week. It’s also making me very happy


This pretty much sums up how I feel most days. It’s a very unpleasant way to feel and I would very much like it to stop. I’m working on it – seeing a therapist weekly and taking medication, but nothing really helps. I don’t know if it will ever get better and I’m starting to feel like there’s not much point to life anymore.

Waking the dead

Hmm. Maybe I’ll dust off this old thing and see what happens….


No, not me, I’ve done that once this year and that’s enough.

My lovely friend Kelly, who blogs at Deluca’s World, spent many days holding my hand and answering my idiotic questions and set up a shiny new blog for me. On my own domain. She’s a clever, clever girl.

So go visit me over at the brand new Major Bedhead and please don’t forget to change your bookmarks!!

There Is Such A Thing As Too Connected

I noticed something while I was at BlogHer last weekend. Bloggers are addicted to their technology. I realize this is not a revelation. Hell, I’m addicted to technology, too, even though I don’t have a smart phone. I do have an iTouch and a laptop and a fairly decent camera. I’m on Twitter and Facebook and Flickr and Linked In.

But what I’m not is connected to the internet when I’m hanging out with people, be it 5 friends around a backyard bonfire or at a conference with 2399 other people. I want to talk to people. I like the interaction, even though it’s sometimes really difficult. I don’t like feeling that I’m playing second fiddle to a Blackberry or iPhone. It reminds me of high school friends who would only firm up plans with me when they were sure their boyfriends or cooler friends (which usually meant friends with cars) weren’t busy.  It drove me crazy then and it drives me crazy now.

This phenomenon isn’t exclusive to BlogHer. I have friends who are compulsive about checking their emails and texts and Twitter feed and Facebook page when they’re out and about with me. If they get a text, they answer it, even if they’re in the middle of a conversation with me. If someone pings their phone, they have to check it, no matter what they’re doing. Out to dinner, at a party, even at the movies; it doesn’t matter. The little electronic beep takes precedence over real, live people.

While I was walking around New York City last weekend, I noticed several bloggers riding in one of those pedi cabs. Each of them was face down into their mobile devices, not paying any attention to this vibrant city surrounding them, more concerned with what was going on online than what was going on in front of their faces. It reminded me of the movie Wall-E. People on their hover-chairs, screens in front of their faces, never seeing the people beside them.

I’m all for social media. I gobble it up with the best of them. But sometimes you just need to put the fucking phone away and live in the moment. Don’t tweet about it, don’t post it to Facebook, just look up. Breathe it in. Wallow around in it. Disconnect for a bit and see what’s going on around you.

The Night I Danced With Barack Obama

I went to BlogHer’10. I know, I know, you’re all sick of hearing about BlogHer, but dammit, I had fun and it’s my blog, so I’m going to talk about it.

First, the party to end all parties. Sparklecorn. I briefly danced with this fine fellow. He’s very thin – the office must be wearing him out.

I let a few other women have their turns….

I danced. A lot. My feet had blisters. My blisters had blisters. Me and Velma and Rachel and ChickyChickyBaby and FairlyOddMother and a bunch of other ladies whose names are escaping me (I had still had 5 drink tickets when I got to this party and they gave me another one at the door).  I watched Poppy and Blackbird do some fancy footwork.

I laughed and danced and danced and laughed and admired the sparkly, shiny cake.

I talked to people I only know from Twitter. I met new people. I wasn’t shy. I didn’t hide in the corner, clutching a drink. I didn’t flee in terror. I didn’t feel overwhelmed. I just had pure, unadulterated fun.  I was complimented on my outfit many times, was told my hair was lovely and people squee’d at me when I introduced myself. Squee’d. At me. And I finally, FINALLY got to meet Jessica, from Oh The Joys. She hugged me. A lot. It was awesome.

I snagged one of the sweet Sparklecorn t-shirts, which garnered me more comments the next day than I think I’ve ever had on a blog post. It says “Judy Blume did not prepare me for this.” I’d show you a picture, but, well, I wore it. I may have worn it to bed and then out the next day (I showered, I showered!) because I had no clean shirts left.

Thank you, MamaPop and Sweetney, for throwing such a fantastic, fun party.  And to BlogHer, for once again, running a great conference. I’ll have something on the sessions soon – the ones I attended were (I’m running out of synonyms for fantastic here….) fabulous.

The Obligatory, Ubiquitious, Pre-BlogHer Freak Out Post

*Insert picture of a woman flailing around, flapping her hands, flinging garments hither and yon.*

*Insert a picture of a jumbled pile of shoes.*

*Insert a picture of a make up bag, gaping open, blush brush frayed, a disc of purple eye shadow in a container.*

*Insert a picture of a power strip, iTouch charger, camera charger and lap top cord.*

*Insert a picture of flat iron, curling iron and hair dryer*

*Insert a picture of body wash, shampoo, conditioner, wash cloth, toothbrush and toothpaste.*

Had I actually done any of these things yet, I could post pictures. Alas, I have not and I leave in four days.

*wibble. wobble. freakthefuckout* Also? NEW YORK CITY!!!!!!  I keep doing this happy little shimmy every time I think about it, which is roughly 8,947 times a day. I’m doing a lot of shimmying.

A Matter Of Trust

I’ve been pondering trust lately, seeing as my trust was pretty well ripped up and thrown back in my face not that long ago. This seems to be a recurring theme in my life. Let’s enumerate:

High school boyfriend – verbally abusive and cheated on me many times.

Dad – cheated on my mother many times, I found out later, but the one I knew about was the one he tried to get me to be friends with, the one who took me clothes shopping and bought me tickets to the J. Geils concert. And then fucked my dad in the car while her son and I attended the concert. Because that won’t mess with your head at all. No.

College boyfriend – didn’t cheat on me. Pretty decent guy, actually, things just didn’t work out.

First husband – drank like a fish, lied like a rug (any more cliches I want to pull out of my ass?) and tried to pick up my newly out-of-the-closet sister. A week before we got married. Which I didn’t find out until after we’d split up. Controlling, manipulative douchebag.  Abandoned our daughter and has had no contact with her in over four years.

Second husband – cheated on me emotionally a couple of times that I found out about, one when I was about 8 months pregnant with our first child. Carried on several online “things” with various women after that, culminating in him leaving this past April for someone he met online. After telling me there wasn’t anyone else for months and swearing to me that if he did ever meet anyone, that he’d let me know.

This is leaving out a few other men I went out with, not all of whom were cheating scum bags but who otherwise messed with my head by dating me for six months and then suddenly never returning phone calls. I was never that invested in those guys and even though I’m sure the not returning phone calls thing was their way of saying they’d met someone else, it didn’t hurt like those listed above. Especially the last one. That one has left me feeling like a fool, like everything we did for the last ten years was a lie. I feel like I can’t trust that anything he told me was true now. Logically, some of it has to be but it makes me obsess over what was true, what wasn’t and why I didn’t run for the hills the first time I caught him in one of his online dalliances. I excused it because a.) I was pregnant and b.) it was only online, they’d never met (as far as I could tell, since one was in Detroit, the other in another country). But the intent was there, the predilection was there. Why did I allow myself to be made a fool of for so long? These are the things that swarm around in my brain when I’m trying to fall asleep at night.

So yeah. I have trust issues. Lots of them. And I’m not sure how to get past them or over them or if I should even bother trying any more. I feel like every time I let someone in romantically, they turn around and kick me in the teeth. Hard.

I know I am not an easy person to live with. I get depressed. I get moody. I’m very, very impatient.  But if the person I chose to give my heart to can’t handle those things, then why do they stay with me? I don’t make any bones about my issues, I put them out there from the get go. Why is that what got thrown in my face, especially with M? He knew. He knew what I was like, knew how I worked and he took advantage of that to tell me I was paranoid and crazy for doubting him when all along, he was playing me.

So here I am, ten years older, even more fucked up than before, not wanting to even think about dating (and as a total aside, how the fuck do you walk out of a ten year marriage into another relationship? How do you not need a little time to figure out who you are? I don’t get that. The last thing in the world I want to do right now is get involved with anyone). What’s the point? Why should I risk it? It’s not worth it, it’s never been worth it. Wait, I take that back. I have four great kids, even if they do drive me slightly mad at times, but other than them, no. Not worth the risk, not worth the heartache.

Do I want to live like this for the rest of my life? On one hand, it certainly would be easier not trying to mold my life and all my fuckedupedness into someone else’s fuckedupedness. But on the other hand, do I really want to be alone forever  and ever? Pluses – I can watch/eat/read/do what I want without clearing it with anyone else. Minuses – I’m alone.

Honestly? I don’t know why that second option sounds so bad right now.

And sorry if I put that Billy Joel song in your head… me.

Random Randomness

  • I keep thinking of blog posts at inopportune times, like in the shower (which makes writing it down difficult) or while I’m driving (also not a good place to be hunting for paper and a pen) and of course, I forget them by the time I have more than 10 seconds to myself.
  • I’m very excited about all the writing labs they’re offering at  BlogHer ’10 this year. I feel like my blog has suffered, both from changing blogging platforms and a serious lack of anything resembling decent writing.  Hopefully these labs will help me get back into writing better, with making this place a bit more polished. Just a bit, though. Swine’s ears and silk purses and all.
  • O is going to camp tomorrow, for ten days. I will miss her – for a 15 year old, she’s a pretty awesome kid, with few of the pouts and moodiness that plague that age (not that I was ever like that, no, not me). My father is taking my kids on Monday night and keeping them until Thursday evening, which means for the first time in I can’t remember when, I will be childless for FOUR WHOLE DAYS. And then my mother’s doing the same thing the week after. I’m not sure I even know what to do with myself sans fils. Sleep, probably. And not cook any meals.
  • The bad behaviour around here is epic. Boo cut off most of her hair the other night, when she was supposed to be in her bed, sleeping. She has tantrums all the time and it’s wearing me out. And if my sister tells me one more time to just be calm with them, I’m going to lose it. I’d love to see her handle this shit all day long and be all fucking Zen after 12+ hours of it. Gah. Whatever.
  • The not-yet-an-ex-husband is still in Indiana, with vague plans of coming back here to find his own apartment and be closer to the kids. I’m not holding my breath. He has been able to come back to see them twice since moving away in April and they miss him. He keeps telling me that he misses them until I finally had to tell him that if he hadn’t run off with another woman and then gotten himself fired, he could still be in the area, seeing them. I’m tired of him acting like he’s made this huge sacrifice by moving out there – it was his choice and he chose to be with her. I’m having a hard time working up any sympathy for him.
  • I found out that the Y near me has financial aid for those who qualify so I’m stopping by there this week to see what information they need for the application. Hopefully I’ll qualify so I can start swimming again. I miss it. It was the only exercise I really enjoyed and looked forward to and I want to start again. Maybe it will help me work off some of this anger I have simmering on a low boil all the time.
  • I’ve been sleeping in the living room since we moved into this apartment and I am sick of it. My back hurts all the time and I don’t sleep very well, as I’m sleeping on a futon that won’t unfold, so I can’t roll over or stretch out at all. I was hoping this would work out but I think I’m just going to have to suck it up and set up my bed in O’s room. She’s not going to like it much, nor will I, but I don’t think I can do this for a year.
  • I am SO looking for another apartment when my lease is up here. This place is horrible. There are roaches *shudder* that I can’t get rid of, even after they sent in an exterminator and I’ve sprayed. I have not been able to find the Combat stuff that a couple of people recommended – I may have to check at the dreaded WalMart.  Raid isn’t doing the job. And the bugs? Totally gross me out.
  • Wow, this was more than a litte whingy.
  • Three weeks until New York City. So. Freakin’. Excited.

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