Monthly Archives: February 2008

today, at the dog park

A woman looked at Jack, looked up, started to look around, then turned to me:

lady: “is this your dog?”

me: “yes”

lady: “I could tell because you look like your dog.”



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I’m a huge proponent of talking through goals with other people. One, because talking falls in line with visualizing – it’s one step closer to making it happen. You’re less likely to not follow through with things you’re telling people you’d like to do. (and on a side note, I hesitate around people who don’t share goals and aspirations. there seems to be something off about that.) Second, you never know who can help you out, so why not just tell everyone and see what happens.

I’ve felt pretty stagnant lately and the idea of re-committing to my goals has been pestering me. I always tend to ask people around me in class what they’re doing here when a free moment allows. Today I started talking, and the conversation unexpectedly led toward me feeling a sense of re-commitment. It’s a good feeling. I feel I have more options alongside of feeling proud of what I currently do.

I like it when unselfish people surface in a sea of ego.

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an e-mail from my best friend (my extroverted doppleganger):

I will call you as soon as I have a chance to talk, but I wanted to tell you that my parents are probably getting a divorce. I know, it’s weird. I mean, it doesn’t surprise me, but I just never thought it would happen. And it will probably be ugly, too. I mean, when you’ve been married for 28 years and hate each other as much as they have grown to hate each other and run a business together (that is owned by the mother-in-law), things aren’t going to be pretty.
Also, my sister had to go to the ER a week ago Friday. She had a seizure from detoxing – she was up to 20 loratabs a day. Then, after being at the hospital with her all night, then bringing her home, I found out Saturday that [husband] had relapsed, too. So my life has been quite wonderful lately!!!!! [husband] is okay now. I hadn’t gone very far and I am not angry with him. It started right when his parents moved. He has a hard time dealing with life sometimes, so he resorts back to his old ways – I mean, his parents have been living on that piece of property for his entire life – he’s never known them to be anywhere else, so it was very weird for him. We had kind of been a little distanced lately and now I know why! But now that it’s all out and he’s not taking the pills anymore, we’re ok.
My sister on the other hand, has way more of a struggle. But with my mom giving her alcohol and my dad smoking weed with her, it’s no wonder that she’s had such a hard time staying clean. But she’s away from them now. She works out of town and when she comes in on weekends, she stays with us. She is trying and as long as she’s trying, I will be there for her. We are all each other has because we sure and the hell don’t have parents. When I find out more about their situation, I will let you know.
How is everything with you?
And she asks how things are with me…

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Today’s 6am run around the lake:

pink and orange sherbet sky.

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something untraditional

My mom bought me a subscription to Real Simple magazine for my birthday last year.  I don’t subscribe to magazines, so the fact that it was a gift made it a bit of a treat to look forward to each month.  Except Real Simple is a Martha Stuart publication and while I started off poring through page after page of the first few issues, lately I’ve been tossing them on top of the bathroom scale once I get them thinking I’ll get to them later.  Something about reading about the married 23 yr. old’s tips on organizing all her shoes, or the overly-ambitious single 35 yr. old’s method’s of organizing her work-at-home space, it’s all so…. traditional.  My life would never be featured in this kind of magazine, I couldn’t relate to wanting to know the most top-quality $350 slipper flats.

After bringing the latest issue on the BART for some quick reading, I jumped to the nonfiction piece in the middle and read it and was happily surprised for many reasons.  I felt like it could have been me writing that, and it scared me because come next year or 10 years from now, it could very well be me.  And oh how untraditional it is.

It’s a piece about a woman in her early 30’s who split up with her opposite-personality boyfriend after a year of fighting and dragging their friends and family through the drama.  Then, after the breakup, she ended up pregnant with his baby.  After the breakup, she wasn’t able to move on with anyone else.  They went on secret dates once a week because of the ease of intimacy they shared, hence the ending up preggers. 

Before the calls come in from my family, no, I’m not pregnant.  When ex-boy and I began dating, we both joked that I had purposely strayed so far from the type of man my grandfather would approve of – 11 yrs my senior, still in school, no savings, no intention of ever settling with one girl.  Technically, we broke up in May of 2006.  But we couldn’t pull away from eachother.  Then I went to good friend’s wedding and realized the type of tradition they were sharing was something ex-boy and I would never have.  We would never have a traditional engagement, wedding, or life.  So we formally broke up at the end of August this past year.  But we still went on secret dates and hung out and I didn’t share this with friends or family because I knew the response I would have gotten – didn’t you two break up?  We did break up, in a sense.  I was on the lookout for something traditional and that’s all I wanted.  But even when I experienced new things with other people, I still ran back to him to tell him. 

The end to the story in the magazine is that while the woman and her ex-boyfriend share custody, they still have “illegitimate family nights” and that’s what works for them.  I don’t know what I envision to happen with ex-boy.  But some nights I get to go to sleep with ex-boy spooning Jack and me spooning my two boys with one arm reaching across the covers.  And that’s what works for us.

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I should have just given him a pen

Say Anything has been on replay all weekend on TV Land and I kept catching clips of it.  At one point I caught it at that point when she confesses her love in that sad moment that begs to be mocked.  I ran into the other room with full intention of faking some tears and sticking out my bottom lip and have it quiver a few times as I repeated “I love you,” gradually fading out into pathetic to see if ex-boy could guess what I had been watching.  (not to mock that particular movie because I really do love it and keep begging someone, anyone, to give me a John Cusack love confession because if you do, I will be yours.)  But the point is, I stopped, tripped up, got the pathetic face on, brought the quiver, but I couldn’t say the words.

Because I haven’t said those words to ex-boy since last June.  And what if he didn’t realize I was re-enacting a scene from a movie and he said it back and we’ve each been waiting for the other to say it for the first time because it’s been so long.  But words that once weighed a measly 2 lbs have fattened up in 7 years time to the weight of an obese man about to belly dive off the high board. 

So I covered up the re-enactment attempt with an aerobatic move off the wall that would have, should have, landed me straight square on top of boy in the bed but an elbow to the knee later and I’m wondering about the long-term effect the abuse to my knees as of late will have….

so much for love.


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boys being boys

Last night on the lake walk while in the middle of conversing about work or something serious, I looked over to see ex-boy’s arms extended with his palms up and fingers folded over his palms and he was staring at a specific spot on the wire of lights that borders the lake.

I asked, “are you pretending you’re spiderman?”

He looked over wide-eyed, “well, yeah, I can shoot out my web from here and swing from wire to wire…”

He was completely serious. 

He’s 37.

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