What a Girl Wants... What a Girl Needs.

I managed to "nap" from some time after 6 p.m. until a few minutes after 8 p.m. I have a non-narcotic muscle relaxer (leftover from my "chostochondritis" episode in June) sitting on the nightstand that I plan to swallow at 10:30 p.m. My phone is on "silent." I am READY to sleep through the night. Here's hoping it works!

Almost broke-down in an exhaustion/depression/anxiety/stress tear-fest at the mechanics today. I was fighting back the desire to just drop to the ground and collapse in tantrum-like ball. To the limit I was. My car has been going through sporadic episodes of not wanting to start. My amateur fix-it brain came to the conclusion that it WASN'T my battery. After a few tests... I was proven right, despite the Harvard Mechanic School graduate's initial assessment. I like being a "guy-stuff" smart girl! It's empowering. The guy was very patient, and respectful. Too bad the shop was backed up and unable to fix it today. I might even escape this "repair" without charge... good thing. I can't afford even an oil change right now.

Fast forward.

I'm home. Mother brings by a few random groceries. Frozen asparagus, frozen french cut green beans, string cheese, and Texas toast. Not sure how she came up with that list... but if I had any say, she would have just come by with a bag of cat food. For the cats, not me. I want it to be clear that I have not gone so far "over the edge" as to begin consuming animal foods. It's very appreciated that she wants to help, but she just doesn't get what an unemployed and financially buried person truly NEEDS.

And neither do my family and friends. At least not most of them. So, I've decided to create a list of tips for those of you who have an unemployed sufferer in your life:

1. DO NOT ask the much hated "Any luck on the job front?" question! Trust me. The whole fuckin world will know when I get a job. (If I survive the initial shock that is.)

2. DO treat them to lunch, or even running errands with you. Unemployed people do not receive the social and mental stimulation of the workplace, and are too broke to do just about anything.

3. DO NOT offer vague suggestions for finding work. They spend their entire day and night searching newspapers and a half-dozen online sites. They know who is and isn't hiring.

4. DO provide specific leads to jobs and help them network if you are able. Simply feeling as though "you've got their back" will do wonders for their state of mind.

5. DO NOT assume that they are doing something wrong, or not looking for work; especially, in a state with the highest unemployment rate! My unemployment office had 8 positions open in a local factory, and 1,500 people applied. That's a .005% chance of getting hired.

6. DO offer to review their resumes and cover letters if they need help with them, or are looking for another opinion.

7. DO NOT expect your unemployed pal to be joyous and carefree... like they are on an extended vacation. Being out of work is HELL! People who have worked their entire lives did so not just because of money. Think about all of the people you know who retire and then return to work shortly after.

8. DO call them when you are at the store if you feel like donating food. Ask them what they NEED! A bag of chocolates is less appreciated when you need a slice of bread.

9. DO NOT tell them ways to cut costs that involve spending money! They don't have any!

10. DO be patient. The stress, anxiety, fear, and rejection bears a heavy weight on the mind of the unemployed. They are struggling to get through each day, and are likely to have mood swings.

And for those who haven't had the misfortune to be unemployed, here's a little peek inside the mind of someone who's been living this nightmare for six months:


I have not slept peacefully for more than one day in a row in over 5 months. And when I can't sleep, I fire up the computer and send resumes at 3 a.m.

I feel more likely to get my identity stolen then I do to get a job.


Sometimes I feel worthless, despite knowing I am a hard-working, talented and intelligent individual.

I am in never-ending fear of going deep into debt. Been there, done that, and it isn't a happy place.

Every time the heat comes on (my thermostat is set at 60), I cringe.

Every time I turn a light on, I wonder if I'll be able to pay my electric bill.

I have "all the time in the world" in a world with no time. It's lonely here.

Sending out resumes and cover letters is expensive, and at times, feels pointless.

Even "strong" people feel weak and discouraged some times. Support without condition is always welcome.

Believing in yourself has no bearing on the unemployment rate.

I'm stressed out! Too tired to pretend everything is coming up roses, when it's really falling down like leaves.

Mona Lake's Frugal French Toast

It's no secret that I'm broke, so I'm doing my best not to waste food. I had some sourdough bread about to go bad... so I made my french toast with it! Pretty tasty!

So here's my "Frugal French Toast" recipe for you...
(breakfast for ONE of course!)

2 slices of sourdough bread (mine was bakery style, donated by my dear mom, as were the eggs and milk)
2 eggs
1 splash of milk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
dashes to taste of cinnamon

Mix eggs, milk, cinnamon, and vanilla in bowl. Whisk for about 2 minutes.

Soak bread slices in mixture. Individually if necessary.

Place bread on buttered skillet warmed at medium heat. Brown well on each side.

Butter to taste.

Cover with your $1.99 Target brand syrup... (or Mrs. Butterworth's if you are lucky enough to have a job!)

Savor your breakfast for one; and fantasize about...

bacon.

ENJOY! I did.

Give Ya One Guess!

One guess. Who is STILL up?!

As Sarah Palin would say, "You betchya!"

Yep. You got it! Mona is still up. I finally gave up on sleep at 6:13 a.m. and got out of bed. I put on shoes and a jacket, and fed the birds in the dark. There is a thin blanket of frost on the feeders and the grass, so yes, it's pretty frickin' cold this morning before sunrise. After I came in, I did the dishes, made some coffee, practiced guitar... and successfully played my C chord!!! Put away some things my mother had brought over, and here I am. Driving you crazy with my craziness!

My big plan (yes I do have those sometimes) is to hopefully stay awake the majority of the day. Pull the proverbial "all-nighter." I'm hoping that I'll then fall asleep sometime around 11 p.m. tonight, and not wake until 7 a.m. Thus, beginning my journey back to Normalville...

Involuntary NIGHT OWL!

HELP ME! I can't seem to sleep when you normal people do! I got into bed early. Shut down the computer early. And tried. I tried really hard! But now it is a quarter to four in the morning, and I have just finished filling out an application for a job, sending an email to my "Employment & Training Specialist" to schedule a meeting, and watching "Parking Wars."

I don't know how to turn this around without medication of some sort! I feel like some kind of monstrous night dweller in a classic horror novel. I truly cannot think of a single person I know that would be awake right now. If I were a night janitor, rock star, or a junkie, this would be normal... well, expected, anyway.

My car is acting up. Needs a jump every so often. No money for that. Car insurance is due. Can't afford the at-once payment, which would save me a hundred dollars... cats need food. I need money! I need a J-O-B!!! That would surely set me straight! I can't wait to fall right asleep from the exhaustion of hard day's work!!!

Dear God, It's Me, Mona.

Found a job posting tonight, and it would be a perfect fit! Not only that, the pay would be at least what I WAS making, and could be up to $8,000 more!!!!!! So, I'm going to do some serious praying tonight! Perhaps, non-stop until I get a call! I've applied for hundreds of jobs. Most of which I wouldn't actually love, but I've applied for due to the desperation of my situation and the state of the economy. To find a job that would utilize my strengths, and be something that I have done in the past successfully... that also pays me a decent salary... now that would be a true blessing.

So, my dear readers, if you read this post, please say a prayer or two for me! I'm off to have a discussion with the man upstairs!

Oh Sooooooo Hot!

I had a HOT evening.

A spicy evening.

And, oh, was it satisfying.

You can't count on a man pleasuring you... but you sure can have a hot time with Caribbean Jerk Chicken Wings.

Ah. The single life.

After enjoying delicious chicken wings, I returned home with my "guitar teacher." He helped me move some chairs into my empty bedroom upstairs: the future "jam room." And then I attempted to play a C chord on the guitar. It's rather funny watching the knuckle on my middle finger bend and wobble like it were made of rubber! I didn't have any success with it tonight, but, I will try again tomorrow. I had trouble with the G chord, my first night, and had it mastered the second day. So, I am hoping my fingers cooperate.

I wound up being up all night last night. Would have been asleep by midnight, but I had received a call from the Irishman, and from Brian. The Irishman may have lost his job. We didn't get into the details at all because his phone ran out of credits. He had asked if I wanted him to come this weekend! What? I'm thinking he'd get here and then not have money to get back! And, I don't have enough money to support two people. I don't have enough money to fully support my own existence right now. It would be nice to have the company. I'm a little nervous about turning into a recluse! That would be tragic!

Thankfully, I have some appointments tomorrow. So I will be leaving the house again! I hate being cooped up! I'm not the coopin' kind! There's a big beautiful world I want to explore out there!

"Intimidation" at the Polls

OK, kiddies. The judge ruled in favor to uphold the ban on candidate buttons and T shirts at the polls. Apparently, if I were to wear an Obama button pinned to my shirt... you might become paralyzed with fear of voting for McCain, piss your pants, and throw the whole damned election!

I realize this law has been on the books since the 50's... and understand that there is to be no campaigning within 100 feet of a polling location. However, have our minds become so weak, that the sight of a button or T-shirt affects our vote? Do we need taxpayer money spent on debating this issue? Do we need the government to protect us from the mystical, hypnotic powers of some dude's "Vote for McCain" T-shirt when we place our votes?

It's a good thing I'm a little short on money. The childish, sarcastic bitch inside of me would love to show up to vote, covered in any bit of political paraphernalia I can get my hands on. Layers upon layers of it! My thousands of bullying buttons cling-clanging like a wind chime. T-shirts piled on to the point of my arms becoming immobilized. Hats stacked on my head higher than in a Tennessee truck stop gift shop. Maybe even covered in buttons and such bearing BOTH candidates names! Then what? Wouldn't that be "fair?" And how do they plan to "cover" these things? Is the state providing masking tape and garbage bags? Or will you be asked to go home and "cover yourself?"

If we are truly so feeble minded, I think it would be wonderful to reverse the decision! Watching everyone panic, sweat profusely, and change their mind each time someone passed by with a t-shirt or button on supporting the other candidate would make for some phenomenal people watching! I could run a popcorn stand for the viewers... and also to provide sustenance to those who had been attempting to make their deciding vote for hours. Most of us don't have a job anyway... so what's the rush? Our state would be the last to deliver official results. Maybe the election would never be decided due to the chaos created by these scary button-wearing people!
http://www.wwmt.com/articles/judge_1355072___article.html/mich_shirts.html

The Cold War

Poverty sucks! It is literally a cold-hearted condition! In an attempt to keep the bills I'm already having trouble paying from getting any higher... I've resorted to using some space heaters to keep the house slightly above freezing. Well, they aren't very effective. My outfit sure is "HOT" though: full-length wool socks, sweatpants, a long-sleeve T, short-sleeve T, and a hooded sweatshirt. All in various "uplifting" shades of gray.

Sleeping has been difficult the past few days. Only caught an hour Sunday before I cleaned an entire house on an empty stomach. So today was a waste, unless I was registered for the Guinness Book of World Records most sleep in one day title. I did write up a "schedule" for myself last night. Something to make me feel a little more purposeful and directed.

I'm into my seventh month of this... and it is shear hell. I hate it. You are fighting to pay your bills. Fighting to hang on to your pride. Fighting to live with purpose. Fighting to keep your "chin up." Fighting to find a job. Fighting the urge to give up. Fighting to keep warm. Fighting to get out of bed...

I did pick up the guitar tonight. Strummed the G chord a bit. My fingers went into the proper position much easier than yesterday! Looked up some other chords on the computer, but didn't find anything I felt I could learn without picking up potential mistakes. Can't be a bad thing to get used to the feel of handling the guitar and strumming it. I played around with lifting and replacing my fingers while strumming. I'll surely have at least one more supervised lesson this week. I have two chairs in the garage I was going to sell for cash, but, my friend made a comment that my empty upstairs bedroom would make a good "jam room." Maybe I'll keep them for now and haul them up there.

I'll be back in the unemployment office on Thursday to check the status of my extension paperwork. I'm hoping to be able to meet with the case worker in charge of the "OJT" program. I don't have time to worry about tuition and more schooling. I NEED a job. Yesterday!

Random Rockin Recap

Hello boys and girls! I'm back.

Considering I'm a little anal about efficiency, I think it best to simply recap the highlights of the last couple days.

Saturday night: Spent the first part of the day in bed. Hadn't been feeling well. Coughing and sinus congestion subsided, but still had a bit of discomfort and just plain ill feeling in my stomach. Brian picked me up at 6:30 and we went to dinner in a small town about a half an hour away. "The County Seat" is a nice, yet non-pretentious restaurant in the downtown area. Lots of interesting architectural features and always an enjoyable meal. We came back to my place and he looked through some of my photographs, read my yet to be published book, and a collection of poetry I had written as far back as junior high. Brian has played guitar for about 25 years, and he has committed to assist me in learning how to play. My piano needs tuning and repair, so I can't really focus on learning that right now.

Sunday: Resting, recovering, and laziness.

Monday: Left early in the morning to clean for an elderly couple. Absolutely adorable they were! 86 and 88 years old. Married for 70 years! Took a short nap, and then got up for my guitar lesson. Brian is letting me borrow a bass and a six-string to learn on. My brief bits of musical training were very sporadic and spread out. I do have a pretty good understanding of the basics of music and the terminology, but he was getting a little complex for my first night. I am someone who learns by doing, and applying my knowledge. So all I am completely confident with tonight, is the G major chord, and the fact that my pinkie finger is going to require some serious training to play it well. I also must cut my fingernails, which thankfully, is not a big deal to me.

Not only did I get two guitars, and a free guitar lesson... he cooked me dinner too! Can't beat that!

My bills are out of control. Have no clue how I'm going to make it this next month without borrowing money. I HATE borrowing money. The desperation is growing ever stronger, and I am clumsily clinging on to the hope that "Everything will work out." It has to!

Friday, the "Bust"

Well, it was Friday. Now, it's technically Saturday already. My friend and I were going to make a trip north and explore some art museums. Yes!!! Culture! Unfortunately, both of us were not feeling well. I awoke to coughing and congested sinus discomfort. Hating that I was going to have to call and cancel, I picked up my cell phone, and there was already a message. Adam is sick too! He sounds far worse than I, and in fact, after resting most of the day, the only thing I have to complain about is discomfort in my stomach. Not sure of the cause. We were both out of culture commission. A mutual cancel goes over much better than the one-sided cancel! I was actually happy about it.

C.F. wrote me back. I have yet to respond. I'm not feeling up to it. He's a lovely, lovely man, and handling this situation rather gracefully. The only thing I'm "mad" about is the fact that we can't be together. Life has a funny way of interfering...

I have dinner plans Saturday (today) at 6:30. I've given no thought as to where we should go. If I had my way, we'd go to Paris, London, Venice... anywhere but here! What a dream! But, alas, I'm temporarily stuck here, in this dreary town. I'll be out with Brian. My "boyfriend" from junior high. We used to talk on the phone while watching wrestling on T.V. Saturday afternoons. Romantic, isn't it? We ran into each other a week ago and have talked sporadically over the years. Twenty-four years. Crazy to think that much time has passed! Anyway, I know he's harmless, and having dinner should be fun. I wouldn't count on any sparks flying... but surely there will be laughter.

Tonight, Oh Yes There Was A "Jailbreak!"

Finally! I escaped!!!! Tonya called this afternoon, and I met up with her and 6 other people for dinner. One of her friends opened a quaint restaurant about 25 minutes away. And, wow, was the food fabulous! What a thrill to be out in the world, AND eat a great meal that I didn't have to cook myself!

I wore my sexy black skirt. I had purchased it before my trip to see C.F. It was originally intended for him... but I thought it might be too dressy for our meeting. And there it was... waiting for its debut... its grand entrance into the world. So I put it on, with some hot fishnet stockings, knee-high boots, and a sexy-secretaryish purple sweater. I felt pretty. Sexy.

On the way there, Tonya sent me a text saying the place wasn't as fancy as she thought. Too late! I sent her a message back saying: "Well... I'm already in the car, in a skirt. Maybe someone will get under it!?"

Unfortunately, we were the only group in the place... and everyone was coupled up, except for Tonya and I. And when she called me her "date," I thought I might die! I'm not giving up men yet, people!!!!! And if I ever do, it will be for the convent, not a woman!

The "Empress's" New Clothes

"Breaking" news... I'm sure you've heard... Sara Palin, and her family, have spent over $100,000 on their "campaign wardrobe." Here are my thoughts...

Selfishly, that amount of money would cover my current bills for almost TEN YEARS!

Unselfishly... as much as I don't care for her, I'd like to know why the cost of Biden, McCain or Obama's wardrobe isn't being discussed. Do I agree with anyone spending that amount of money for clothing? No. It's foolish. You can look polished and put together for a hundred bucks. Appearances are important, but I'm not voting for someone based on the social status of their shoe designer! In fact, that's a turn off to me. Our worth should be decided by our character. And someone who claims to represent our country of "Joe the Plumbers" (oh, I just puked in my mouth a little) isn't representing "us" very accurately. I'd be hard pressed to find one of my friends who could afford such a spree, and even more hard pressed to find one that would.

Yes, this is the joy of election year. The non-stop mudslinging and character assassination infecting our brains and households in an attempt to influence our vote.

I think Sara Palin needs to really think about what she stands for. Or, at least, what she wants us to believe she stands for. Perhaps, in the big scheme of things, wardrobe expenses are trivial. However, in a time when most Americans are struggling to simply hang on to whatever it is they have, I have a problem with a potential Vice President finding such frivolous expenses acceptable.

And we, we need to rethink our own priorities... what we stand for. What we want our country to stand for. We can't afford to sit back on our laurels and wait for things to magically change. We can't simply hope for the world to become a better place. We have to make that change. Make this world a better place. Stand up for ourselves, and each other. Care. Care about what's going on. Care about our community, our environment, our economy, our jobs, our families, our neighbors.

Again... please vote. I'm not here to tell you what the right choice is. That is up to you. But I am going to say, that you MUST really examine the issues at hand... and reexamine your role in our future! VOTE VOTE VOTE!!!!!

My Chinny-chin chin

Thank God I don't have hair on my chinny-chin chin... but I sure do have a ZIT! An angry little pustule of frustration that people of my age are supposed to be immune to! A lump-like little reminder that things just simply kind of suck right now. Right there. On my face.

But, I, in true fighting spirit, am trying to keep my zitty chin up!

The skin. The largest organ of our entire bodies. And, typically, the first to show signs of stress or illness. I am stressed! And it's making me sick! I'm just praying that once this ugly bugger implodes, so shall the angst. The angst that has festered, and taken the shape of this angry red zit!

It has become my unconscious obsession. Something to play with when I temporarily zone out to another place. Something to pick at. Something to be mad at. Even a little reminder that things won't stay this way forever. That they once were better (pre-zit), and they will be better again (post-zit). And if it doesn't go away... perhaps I can sell it to a medical research facility. Maybe even claim it bears the face of Jesus and hock it for hundreds of dollars on Ebay!

Until then, it's just me, my zit, and my, sometimes exhaustively, upturned chin... trying to get along, get by, and get things all "cleared up."

The Ditches

Ditch. Ditched.

What's up with the recent ditching of Mona? It's an epidemic!

My cousin has ditched me. He claims he's got personal business dragging him down. Chey has ditched me... same story. C.F. ditched me, but for understandable reasons. "R" disappeared! Maybe he's in a ditch? No word from my father in almost two weeks... that's a double-ditch. Brian hasn't called back about dinner, and Tonya is in the ditching process as well.

The employment world is ditching me.

All the while, I keep hearing random clips on t.v. saying "If you don't have friends and family, you don't have anything."

Have I nothing?

I hate to be bitching about all of this ditching... but it's starting to sting a bit! Have I lost my place in this world? I love life. Why isn't it loving me back?

The Drag... Racing

What a drag!

I'm trying not to have an endless pity party, but I'm really running out of gas here. My friends are too busy, my bank account is too empty. I'm struggling to find things to do. I'm lonely. Bored.

For some reason, "R" is not talking to me. I have no clue why, and left him a message inviting him to talk about it. All I can figure, is that when he asked if I was looking for a relationship, that he didn't like my answer. I was freaked out! It was too soon for that conversation! But, we went from talking daily, sometimes for over an hour... to not at all, with no explainable occurrence. He was a nice guy, and maybe down the road, I would have considered a relationship with him. He was just driving a little too fast for my comfort.

I went to the grocery store for excitement today. Took back cans and bottles and used my whopping $10 in food assistance to pick up a family-pack of ground beef, one onion, two bags of lettuce, two packages of grape tomatoes, spaghetti sauce, Diet 7-up, some coffee and tea. Not much, but I had no beef. "Where's the beef?!" Remember that commercial?

So, Brian left a message about dinner tomorrow. I need to go. Need to get out of here and back into the world. And a nice meal would be very lovely. Today I've eaten one small apple, and a bowl of homemade potato salad. Forced myself to eat both times. I'm so listless I don't even get hungry!!!

Oh, something has to give... something! Anything! I'm about to crash and burn....

Just to clarify...

Just to clarify... I did NOT call "R!"

I spent the evening searching and applying for jobs. Now THAT'S sexy.

(I'm in trouble. So is my sex life.)

And the Funk Funks On

I'm still a bit funky*. Funky is my favorite word to describe any state of mind or being that just isn't excited, happy, or productive. I suppose it is a form of depression denial. Laziness? Boredom?

I need some stimulation! I need some things to keep me busy! Like a job! I spent about two hours filling out an application for a part-time position at the local college, which sadly enough, would wind up bringing in about the same income as I receive now. The tediousness of filling out the applications, customizing the resumes and cover letters, is exhausting! I'm over it! The least these people could do is call you and say, "Ha ha! Good luck with your bills this month! Thanks for the scrap paper!"

Tomorrow morning I place my last call into the unemployment system. And then, hopefully, they will allow me to file for my extension. If I don't get the extension, or a job, I'm basically faced with packing it in and joining the many unemployed and uprooted broke asses. I'm praying that doesn't happen. I worked incredibly hard to get here. To get my finances in order, buy a house, and put some love and attention into it. I've only been here a little over a year. I'd hate to see it end this soon... over the simple failure of the local economy! If I can get myself out of debt... surely this state can find some solutions!

I'm waiting for "R" to call me back. Hoping he wants to hang out for a bit tonight. I'm bored! And I hate to say that. But, I'm not ready to read another book... and my level of inspiration to write is at a low. I've already job searched today... I want something new and different to do! I'm not a creature of habit. With the exception of thoroughly enjoying quiet time in bed.

Things are lookin up for the week. My calendar was empty, aside from my calls to unemployment tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. But, Brian wants to go to dinner (an old friend from high school) and Tonya will be in town. She's thinking lunch. So there is hope for some much-needed social activity.

And if "R" comes over... maybe I'll have some sex! What??!!!?!?! Hey, sounds fun to me! Maybe if I called him and said that... he'd be more in a hurry to see me.

Unspeakably Unspoken

I did it.
I broke the silence. The security. His serenity.
I wrote C.F.
I said one-gazillionth of the things I long to say...
I wanted him to know that I think of him; every day.
He's busy. Wrapped up in life. In the demands of being him. But I had to tell him. I still want him. Need him, but that, I didn't say. He wrote back, and said I can expect a "proper letter" soon.

Fuck proper! Nothing about us is, or was, proper. Part of me wishes I'd never met him, and the other can't stop wishing we'd never "parted." And, I'm simply driving myself mad thinking.

Our "entanglement" was secret. So I'm left alone... to wallow in it. I dare not discuss it freely... only he and I may truly understand it.

I miss him.

I'm pushing people away... like the rich on a street full of beggars... and although I do not enjoy my loneliness, I wish not to share it. It's unspeakable. Unspoken.

From Zero to Funky...

Wow. I went from zero to funky in a mere 12 hours. Back to Funkytown I go. I had a nice, productive evening Thursday at the publishing workshop. But something happened in my crazy little brain while I slept... and it wasn't good.

I woke up feeling listless. Lethargic. Lonely. Empty. Exhausted. I don't know if it's the coldness of my house, or the pressures that I'm facing, but I was feeling a need to hide in the safety and warmth of my bed... for days!

There was a local "Fall Into The Arts" event downtown. I had been excited to go! Anxious to participate in a cultural activity in this stifled city. What happened to that? In fact, I was close to ditching my friend that planned on going with me. But, after deciding I would simply disgust myself by staying home for no good and definable reason, I got out of bed and hit the shower.

Mr. Irishman called. He had been calling all day. Wondering why I disappeared from our chat conversation last night. I didn't want to answer, my friend was on the way. I was fighting tears. Not wanting to honestly discuss how I felt and then have to explain it all again when I greeted my friend with streams of sadness running down my face.

I hate being negative! But, I'm facing some seriously negative shit! So I'm bottling it all up. And when I've actually reached out to friends to talk about it, they are always too damned busy. I hate that too! What's a girl to do?

I'm home now. Bundled up in dreary brown sweats to keep warm. Feeling funky, frumpy, and oddly frisky. Where's everybody at? Why am I not in bed? What the hell is wrong with me? Me. That's what's wrong! If only I could have one of those out-of-body experiences and transform into some blissfully ignorant blonde bimbos at the Playboy mansion or something. Anything. I need an escape. An emotional retreat.

Martha's funeral is tomorrow. And I'm not going. I feel terrible about it, but I am not comfortable with going there alone. Well, I am, it's the drive back that I fear would not be wise. I've simply got too much emotional shit going on to comfortably drive over two hours when I'm riddled with stress and sadness.

Please, please, please let something turn around soon. FAST!

Beyond the Door...

I sent my last message to my father nine days ago... there's been no response as of yet. Is this proverbial door still open? Has he closed it? Has he sought out security and solace behind it?
I have no idea if my father has a computer at home. No clue as to whether he has Internet access, or takes trips to the library or a friend's to check his email. What I'm dying to know is if he read my last message.

If you recall, our last exchange involved him bringing up the subject of my childhood. And I feel I handled that very tactfully. I was careful to not offer too much detail to prevent him from feeling guilty or responsible for what he cannot change. I didn't want him to dwell on whatever feelings he may have towards his absence in my life. I've let that go. If he chooses to discuss it, I will entertain that discussion, but rehashing or living in that dusty old past does not interest me... it is not my motivation for allowing this door to be pried open.

But with Martha's recent passing, and feelings of loss for Pam still pulsing through my heart... my belief that knowing my father in whatever way this life allows is important, becomes even stronger.

We don't know how much time we have here. Not a single one of us. We never know what conversations will be our last. We never truly know when we will see someone again... Really telling someone how I feel has never been my strong point, but the importance of doing so has been screaming in my ear for the last week. I don't want my father to die thinking that I hate him, or that he ruined my life. I don't want him to think that I would never understand his choices, or that I would never forgive him. It is for these reasons, that I hope he has not shut this door.

My wish for all of you, my lovelies, is that you take every moment you have to let those around you know how special they are to you. That when you think those kind thoughts, you turn them into kind words. You may never know the impact kind words may have on someone's life, but you might, if you muster up the courage and energy to say them. But what you will know, is that if by tragedy or circumstance, you never have the opportunity to converse with them again... you will have expressed your gratitude for their presence in your life. And with that, I will thank each and every one of you, for being kind enough to share this magical, mysterious, and sometimes, maddening, life... with me.

The Blessing of Believing

I made a tough decision Tuesday. I decided to invest $59 in myself. What's the big deal, you ask? The big deal is that $59 in my world right now... is keeping my electricity on... one tenth of my car insurance that I don't have money for. A much needed trip to the grocery store!

But, there was a "How To Self- Publish Your Own Book" workshop offered through the Adult Continuing Education program through K.C.C. and I wanted to take it. I have researched, to no end, the publishing world and what options best fit my budget and needs. I wanted to hear it from someone who has done it. Put the voice of experience and reason to what I have read.
So I pondered the expense, the investment, over the weekend. "What's $59 dollars in the big scheme of things?" I declared. So Tuesday afternoon, I faxed in my payment.

The workshop was scheduled today from 6-9 p.m. The instructor/author, Richard L. Baldwin, was an excellent presenter and the information was valuable. I felt it was money well-spent.
He finished his presentation early, and said that we didn't have to go, because we had paid for three hours. The rest of the "class" left. I said, "Mr. Baldwin, if you don't mind, I'd like to take the rest of the time to pick your brain." He obliged.

So I sat across from him, presented my finished book, marketing idea and vision. Not only did he agree, he presented me with my complimentary copy of his book, inscribed with "(Mona), I see much success for you. Rich Baldwin." That, in itself, kind of choked me up.

We talked further, and he said, "You have it all together. You're personable, witty, intelligent and attractive. You have a business head and a writer's head. But I sense some frustration. What is it that has you frustrated, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Money. It's the damn money! I believe in what I'm doing. I know I'm doing what I should be doing... finally. And it all feels great. I'm ready! I just can't get over that hurdle. It's the ONLY thing holding me back right now, and I'm too proud to call in favors." I said.

"I'm about to say something, and I'm putting myself at risk of offending you... but, I want you to see it as an investment. As a testament to the fact that I believe in you and I want strongly for you to keep on this path. I want to give you $40."

(Fought back tears on that one!)

"Well, Mr. Baldwin. I am aware that I have a problem with accepting gifts, so I am going to say thank you, and accept this investment, on one condition: that you allow me to acknowledge your generosity and inspiration in my first published work."

We shook on it.

I was really touched. The gift of positive encouragement is invaluable to me at this point in my journey. Somehow, a long time ago, I lost that belief in myself. Lost touch entirely with myself. What this kind man did for me will never be forgotten.
And, as he said, when we parted ways in the parking lot... "I hope our paths cross again."

Alone.

Ugh. I'm thinking about Martha passing... how short life is. How many days I've spent alone lately... and I don't want to be alone tonight.

But, I'm not sure if I want to go rifling through my contacts list to find someone to share the evening with... and what if they all were busy? Wouldn't that fuel the "aloneness" that I don't want to feel?

I thought "R" had said he was coming by today after he went to the bank. But 5:40 p.m. came... and I left. Maybe he came by, maybe he didn't. He has his son with him tonight, so he's not really available to pass the time with me. And if I see him too often, he's likely to get the impression that I want more from him then I do.

I just want some good conversation and some company. Maybe an arm around me...

My Sweet Martha

I got three emails this afternoon from my dear friend Martha's email address, only the title read, "Mother's Arrangements." I was busy doing other things... and then realized that Martha was in her 80's and her mother was unlikely to be alive. So I opened the email...

It was from Martha's daughter. Martha has passed. Frozen with shock, and sickened with regret... I wrote Julie back.

Martha and I "met" in a rather unconventional but lovely way. Martha's brother Don had been one of my regular bar customers at Outback. A kind, sweet soul, who spoke to me with the love and encouragement of a grandfather. And since my grandfathers were not nearby... I "adopted" Don as one. Don didn't drink. He came to the bar to talk with me. To visit and share his day. And it tickled me to see older ladies hitting on him... he still "had it!" I remember him showing me a beautiful ring he bought for his daughter and asking if I thought she'd like it.

Don lived with vigor. He and his fellow elderly bachelors gathered every summer in Florida for ladies and mischief. He had asked me incessantly to drive him that year. I had classes to attend, and working to do. I couldn't. Don hadn't returned for our usual cheerful conversations... so I began searching his name on the Internet. Don had died. Hopefully happy, perhaps even in the arms of a woman he had charmed. I didn't get to tell him how much he meant to me.

So I posted a letter expressing my love and adoration for Don on his memorial page through the funeral home. Martha read it and wrote back to me.

Martha and I were pen pals for the last 7 years. We shared the bond of love for her brother, Don. We shared life stories and laughter... through letters, cards and emails. She had stopped by Outback once, when she visited Don's grave, but I wasn't yet at work. So Martha and I never met in person. But, I loved her just the same.

My sweet Martha. What a lovely soul. What a generous spirit. I'll miss you, dear, and hope you passed peacefully... knowing that you touched my life, and hoping that I touched yours.

Gregarious Gardener

I'm stuck! Confused. Well not really... I know what I want to do, but this unfortunate thing called money is in the way!

I want to be a writer. An artist with many muses. Many forms of media to play with. I want to earn my living creating. Whether it be writing articles for a newspaper, transforming my friend's home with paint, sculpting an abstract ceramic vase, photographing a mystical tree in the local park, or singing a song I've written in a local coffee shop on a Sunday afternoon.

But, these things don't generate cash simply on a dream, and like unlike dreams, they don't happen overnight.

In contrast to what I want to be... this is what I am: I am an unemployed single woman, with a college degree and substantial work experience in the management of people and business. Which, I must say, I believe is an art in itself. Effective leadership is a talent, and requires some pretty creative thinking at times. An ability to paint a lovelier picture than the one before you. To have the vision and the know-how to get there.

So what am I doing to facilitate the transition between what I want to be, and what I am? I'm planting seeds. Everywhere. A hyperbolic horticulturist. A brainstorming botanist. A gregarious gardener. I'm writing something somewhere, everyday. I'm reading something new... everyday. I'm researching careers... everyday. Networking with fellow "arty" friends. Networking with friends for work. Searching job postings, multiple times a day. Sending resumes, cover letters, and talking with my unemployment case workers.

Here is my predicament. The difficult decision and tangled web I am caught in. I need a job. I want a job. I have to have a steady source of income to pay for my house and utilities... and also fund my creative adventures. I'm enrolled in the "No Worker Left Behind" program in which you have two options: seek assistance in the "on the job training program" in which they help you to secure employment, OR "tuition reimbursement" in which they pay up to $5,000 for two years while you attain new job skills to help you secure future employment. But, it must be in one of their researched "in demand" fields. Most of which do not truly interest me, aside from Paralegal and Interior Design. Interior Design is something I've already done and truly love. I've had a handful of clients over the last 10 years. It's artistic. It's a passion. But, would two years of training really qualify me for a position with a large firm? And does that matter? I don't care to be working for anyone other than myself. But, how do I make this happen?

If I begin schooling, I lose my unemployment. If I lose my unemployment, I lose my house and my ability to sustain my life. If I begin schooling before I get a job, I have to pray that any job I find does not conflict with my schooling. And, the job would have to come first, because, like all of you, I have to pay the bills! If I enter into training that doesn't align with who I am and what I long to do... I've just erased any and all progress I have made with soul-searching and seed planting... and I've just put myself in the same miserable position I have been in for the majority of my 36 years!

So obviously the job comes first. And unfortunately this hasn't been an easy obstacle to overcome! And I must have a job that leaves enough free time to continue on my creative path... and allow for schooling if I chose that option. Do I chose that option? Is more education necessary to get where I want to be? I love to learn and want to learn any and everything I can, but I also know that spreading myself to thin and stretching bits of me in many different directions that conflict with the one I desire to go in, just creates a mess! So do I chose job assistance and skip the schooling? What is the answer here?

Don't Hate the Player... Hate the Game!

"R" just left. We spent a few hours together. He's handsome, kind, and full of compliments... but he's not C.F. If I had my way, I would be in C.F.'s arms... in bed... for about a week, with room service delivering any and all necessities to avoid the need for clothing.

But, I can't have him.

And, I got a very sweet and romantic card from Ireland today, featuring the artwork, "The Kiss" by Klimt.

So here I am, feeling like one of those arrogant but hot "player" guys that all of the girls say they hate... but they wind up sleeping with anyway. I'd love to tell C.F. how I feel, but I don't want to risk running him off and ruining what is left of our intellectual love affair. And I'd love to tell the Irishman that I'm going to date other people... but what would that do to our spark? Is there a spark anymore?

And "R." "R" asked me what I want last night. A little too premature in my mind... but something I may have been open to before I had become so entangled with C.F. I was sure to explain to him that I am in a very transitional stage of my life, and that I am finally pursuing lifelong dreams. That I don't know what will come of them, where I will end up, and what I will be doing at the "end" of it all. But I surely didn't volunteer that as of now, my heart and mind belong partially, if not completely, to someone else.

I don't want to complicate my life. But I don't want to let it pass me by either. So I suppose my "moves" will have to be a slight bit strategic when it comes to "playing with boys." I've never dated more than one man. And this situation is a little strange! I'm pining away for a man I can't have that lives out of state, travels for work, and is also in a serious relationship with someone else. I'm chatting across the ocean with a man from another country... and playing kissy face with "R." A man who would like a relationship with me, wants to fix my car, and help me with projects around the house.

And all I can think of right now is chicken wings and C.F.

What a wicked, wicked game!

Ravenous!

I'm ravenous! Consumed with an undeniable hunger!!!!

"R"stopped by earlier after he got out of work and brought me some grapes. I had craved them the other night and he said he would bring them. He did. And, he brought with him some serious sexual tension. He took a tour of my house, and in between exploring the work I had done to it were awkward pauses. The kinds of pauses that lead to lustful make out scenes in the movies.

But he, and I refrained.

Until...

He stopped by for a few minutes later on. We chit-chatted politely. I got him a glass of water. He sat on the couch. I sat on the couch. He hugged me to thank me for having him over... and then laid one on me!

Wow. Hot. He's an excellent kisser. Things were warming up, but nothing "inappropriate" for a first kiss meeting of the lips transpired. I'll admit that after my spoiled rendezvous with C.F.... I have some serious sexual tension and frustration built up. He's definitely present in my mind, and I'm not ready to commit to anyone... but sex; sex would be very nice.

The grapes, perhaps the "forbidden fruit" have yet to be consumed, and "R" says he's coming over for a few tomorrow. Looks like I have some decisions to make. Do "it" or don't. That's tonight's question.

Good Morning World!

Good Morning to you! Mona is up and at 'em. Sipping some delicious coffee and perched at the table with piles of research and notes. A friend of mine hired me to write up a speech/presentation for her meeting with a local foundation. I suppose it is my first "gig" as a writer. The first one I can recall getting paid for, that is.

Getting started hasn't been easy! I'm not sure if it's the pressure of receiving money, or the fact that it is a "controlled" work, that is causing me trouble. But, today is the day that it must be done and I typically don't collapse under pressure.

As I'm sitting here, my new friend, the piano, is in the corner of my eye. And I'm wanting to play it! It's as if it is calling me to entertain it after years of neglect! However, I have little training and no music books here... and that poor old thing needs to be tuned. But we are together now. And I'm hoping we have a very loving and playful relationship over the years!

Have yourselves a wonderful morning! This "professional writer" ;) has got work to do!

Cinderella's Story...

Despite not getting into bed until 9 a.m. And rising 5 hours later... I managed to have good day.

Up all night writing random rants of love unrequited... seemed to have cleaned out some of the negative clutter in my mind. I was tired. But alive again.

It was a beautiful day outside. Sunny and warm. Opening the windows allowed the world to breathe new life into this house. Into me. I soaked up some of the warmth of the sun... watched the squirrels play, and the butterflies bouncing along the blades of grass.

And when I came inside... I began cleaning my house. Feeling attached to it again. Loving it again. I was beginning to resent it. Letting the burden of affording it while unemployed sour the joy and pride it used to fill me with. I was happy to clean it. Smiling. Sweeping up dirt from the plant that got knocked over, cleaning out the cat litter... even finding a dead mouse; made me happy.

My carpet is clean and waiting for the piano to rest it's legs on it. We are supposed to leave to pick it up between 4 and 6 p.m. I'm excited, but a little nervous. Nervous about moving the massive thing, and nervous about whether I'll actually play it. But having a piano in the house, in my sight, makes the dream of playing a little more real than just a drifting thought in my mind. It really seems meant to be. The woman who is giving it to me is single and 36. Very kind and thoughtful. A church going woman. We exchanged some emails early this morning and she thanked me for the coffee conversation. I have a feeling we will become friends. An interesting connection.

Emails. Yes, many emails. Emails from C.F. Thankfully, C.F. has left the lines of communication open. I would not have faired well if he had just shut me out completely. And as the days slowly pass I become a little more comfortable with "the end" of our brief love affair and the continued growth of our friendship. He's a special person to me. And I like to keep those special people around. Close to my heart. I hope we enjoy a long and lovely friendship.

There is already a "boy" volunteering to sit in the newly emptied spot on the roster. Someone that I initially met when I was in a serious relationship. He was an acquaintance of my ex, and someone I always found attractive. We just happened to be in the same place at the same time, and he asked for my number. When he walked away from my car he said "You look good!" Thanks! I needed that! A freshly rejected woman will never be ungrateful for a man telling her she looks good.

I'm not really feeling a need to get involved. My mind is on C.F. and I am supposed to be having a visitor from Ireland in December... so getting into any type of serious relationship right now would be silly. And as nice as "R." is... we don't know each other well enough to even get into that quite yet.

My priority is still finding a job. Got my 6 month car insurance bill today, and more bills from my June trip to the hospital. None of which I will have money for. Two weeks left of unemployment and I have to wait to file my extension. Silly red tape. As if I'm not stressed enough! Right now... I'm thinking of skipping the plan to pursue the $10,000 in free tuition and opting for the help with attaining a job. It doesn't make sense for me take more college classes. You have to pursue careers on their "high demand" list. And the only one that sincerely interests me is "Interior Designer." Unless there is a way to finish that in two years... I'm not interested at all. I'm really feeling good about pursuing my writing and artistic adventures. Feeling like it's what I'm meant to be doing. And I don't think I should waste anymore time and energy on something else. I've done that for most of my 36 years... and it didn't make me very happy.

"Find your passion. And pursue it." That is what I'm going to do...

Mona Lake is Dead???

So tonight I confided in a friend. And I said, "I think Mona is dead." Which is me, of course.

But. Fuck that. I'm not dead.

I'm just hurt because I allowed myself to really feel, for the first time in a long time... but with a man who couldn't, even if he wanted to, feel back. And as much as I could try to convince myself it was wrong, I know it wasn't. There was a devine reason for us to meet, which the true meaning of, I have yet to discover.

But I know, that I've wasted the majority of my life denying who I am, what I want, and where I want to be. And when it's all said and done, I'll have one last regret.

So I'm here. Wanting him. And he probably wants me too. But, that can't be. So. I'm thinking I am about to entertain the thought of a "no strings attached" relationship, based solely on sex. Because... I am... a 37 year-old woman, that is fit, smart, sexy, funny, and open-minded... and there is a world out there that keeps on spinning; with or without me. And damn it! I want to have some hot sex! Not once. Not twice. But at least, three times... this year!

The Empty Chair...

I have sat here... in this same... old... hard... cold...

uncomforting, uncomfortable chair... for twelve hours. Half a day. A lifetime. Lifetime of feelings. Conversations. Words. Said. And unspoken...

And

I

Am...

Mourning. Frustrated. Sad. Hopeful. Desperate. Needy. Full. Empty...

All at once. And...

All

Alone.

In this empty chair...

A. Fucked. Up. Mess.

The defintion of a fucked up mess... according to Webster:

A: "from beginning to end; completely; exhaustively"

Fucked: "great, malicious, unfairness"

Up: "as a virtually meaningless element added, esp. colloquially, to almost any verb"

Mess: "6 a) a state of embarrassment, trouble, difficulty, a person in either of these states 2. to make a mess of; specif., to make dirty, soiled, or untidy; also, to bungle; muddle; botch: often with up

What. Have I done. Do I do...

An Absolute Mess

I am an absolute mess.

A product of my own destruction. A scattered, shattered, all and nothing that mattered mess.

Here's a photo to prove it.

Just One More...

There's a guy that has been "missing" for almost two months. And there is a body that has been found. I didn't really know the guy, but my friends did... and I do know that at least part of him was hurting inside. And odds are that he is now, in fact, dead. And a victim of "foul play." Although I didn't know him... this is stirring up emotions inside me.

I had a friend named Pam. I met her when I used to travel to Fort Wayne to work. Pam and I quickly became friends... but we never really knew what bonded us together so tightly. I was secretly in my own hell. Hated my job. Hated that I had "sold out" for money, but trying to justify it because it was allowing me to break the chains of debt. I had no time for me. Family. Friends. No time to breathe. And I met Pam.

Pam and I hung out a lot after work. Even though I wasn't supposed to "fraternize" with the "help." Pam was a beautiful person. Very spirited. Strong. Hilarious. And sad. She wouldn't tell me she was sad. But just one look at her swallow an entire bottle of beer in one gulp... told me so. And there I was, in my own hell, my own sadness... unable to violate the comfortable laughter... and ask her what was truly hurting her. To confront her. To beg her to be kind to herself. To know that she was loved.

And Pam died.

Pam was alone. In another country. Studying to become a doctor just to please her beloved stepfather. Hiding her painful secrets and the pain of those secrets from the family she so adored, and that hopefully adored her too. I had been thinking of how I should have called her the very day that she died. I had wondered why she hadn't responded to the email I had sent that eerily said, "Please at least let me know you are alive."

So I never got to tell Pam that I loved her. For her. Despite her internal struggles... despite her drunken foolishness. Despite her pissing her own pants as a grown woman. That I loved her sarcasm. Her obnoxious laugh. Her freckles. How much she loved her stepfather... and how desperately she yearned to make him proud. I never got to tell Pam it was going to be okay. Never got to tell her that she could cry on my shoulder. Even punch me in the face, if it would keep her going for just one more day. I never got to tell Pam that life, no matter how painful it can be, is worth living.

I didn't even get to go to Pam's funeral. I didn't know her parents. Didn't know who to get in touch with regarding the funeral. I never got to say "Goodbye" to her... and I never wanted to.

And her number is still in my cell phone. I can't delete it. I know that no matter how desperately I wish that she would answer if I call... she can't. But I can't let go of that one little bit I have left of her. Sometimes, I hear her laughter. And it makes me smile.

I wonder how she felt the day she died. If she meant to die, or if it was merely an accidental overdose of self-medication self-prescribed for her lonely angst. And I remember being in my garage, painting doors for my house. Being irritated about how tedious it was... and then realizing that Pam died at 26. She never got to buy a house and get pissed about painting doors. She never got a chance to have kids, to get married... maybe even to "simply" feel loved. And I still... a year later... feel such a sorrow for her loss. A longing for her to have just one more chance. The ability to at least hug her... and tell her that although I couldn't save her... she, in a way, saved me.

The Big Fat Fucking Mess

Now I've gone and done it. Fucked it all up.

I can't get into all of the details. I'm still spinning and sick with the dizziness. Already uncomfortably brewing with too much coffee on an empty stomach before I got the message from C.F.

The message.

C.F. and I had been intimately chatting and sending photos for the last six weeks. And we had finally met. It was electric. Pure. True. And right away, I was afraid. Afraid for all of the cliche reasons... afraid to be in love, broken-hearted. But also afraid of feeling something that most likely would have to end... and I didn't want to ever have to let it go... so I almost didn't let myself begin to feel it.

But I did. And I do.

And now... he's afraid. Justifiably afraid of the consequences of our feelings. Of us meeting again. Of us being more than what we can handle... because he's involved with someone else. And if he holds on to me... he inevitably has to let go of her and his life. It's a mess. A fucking mess. And I want to talk to him about it so badly, but he's afraid that we can't meet. We were supposed to meet tomorrow.

I can't make sense right now. Not of this. Not to explain it. Can't make sense of what I feel... and I can't try... because our relationship was a secret. So I am stuck here... with this bubbling, explosive mess... trapped inside my sickened stomach. Alone.

And to further scatter the wreck and confusion that is me... Mr. Irishman called right after I got the news, and asked me if I was okay. I just said no and that I couldn't talk about it right now. So... I have to add to the mess... and not tell him the truth. Not tell him that I'm basically almost in love with someone I can't be with, but that I love him too. God. Typing that just completely paralyzed me. It doesn't seem possible. How could that be? How could something so entirely fucked up even possibly happen? And why am I so torn with convincing myself that it was stupid to begin with, and feeling like the honest reality is that we can't help who we love, or why we love them. And damn't... we can't isolate the tangled web of the world that sometimes keeps us away from where we want to be... and who we want to greet us when we get there.

Fuck.

Passing Pictures Through The Door

I spent the last few days pondering what I wanted to say in response to my dad's message. Deciding how I wanted to address his allusion to my childhood. How to balance natural curiosity and honesty without producing feelings of guilt or remorse for that which can't be transformed: the past.

So I kept it brief, and to the point. I just said life was rough, but not entirely terrible and that I faired well. Then went on to talk about our beloved German Shepherd, Heidi, that he remembered.

And I pushed the door open slightly... I sent him a photo that I had taken. One of my favorites. Something that I created. A piece of me, that inevitably is a piece of him...

Flattery?

Wow! Just had the oddest chat ever with Derek, the younger man from many many months ago. He's 23 I think. And we have never met in real life. We used to chat, but he got a little too weird about doomsday and Jesus for my taste.

Anyway... I thought I would talk to him tonight for a moment and through the course of our conversation I had told him that I had been taking some photographs. He wanted me to share them with him.

Apparently... that struck some kind of chord with him! This is what he said after he told me how beautiful the photographs were, oh, and that I should be a model. (Hello. I'm 37, 5'5, and weigh more than 60 pounds)

After Derek asks me if I want children...

"and yes i know every angle of repsonse u could have to this statement.. but . have my next child.. yes or no.. and yes"

After I tell him that I'd rather have money to put food on the table...

" its a big world.. none of that matters in the long run.. i konw you dont wanna hear it and i dont wanna say it, but in all reality none of that will matter soon.. i want to have a child with u"

Me: well, I want to have money to feed a child so, I'm not signing up for that gig at the moment

Him: live off the state til we can provide lol
im not sayin when

Me: why do you want me to have your baby??!!

Him: ur gorgeous, ur a good woman.i know u have ur faults but who doesnt.. ur a grown mature woman.. and i want to have a child with u.. im nota deadbeat and i know this is the most serious of all subjects that will affect us forever but im serious
a million reasons
i would ask NO other to

Me: just wondering what sparked this

Him: its been there smoldering
i know that if we would have met we would have been together.. despite what u may and despite the age difference
despite everything
i know it
dont ask how
i know
and im the last person to speak like this casually

Wow. I'm not sure what to make of that! I'm glad my photographs are moving, but I didn't anticipate them making men want to reproduce with me! And, considering that is the first man that really went out of his way and said he wants to have my baby that wasn't drunk... I feel like it should have been with someone I have at least met in person. Kissed. Loved.

Is this flattering?

Jury is out.

Honest. To be or not to be?

Message received from Dad today:

"i'm relieved to hear back from you! i wondered if i had offended. will write more later. I was out riding my motorbike thru gorgeous weather.....oxygenated blue October skies...thru some teeny towns....with kids and bicycles out playing....a BIG romantic memory swept over me of how simple it was to go home to mom and a warm meal. Simple adventures of youth to relate to gentle loving attentions. No giant world complexes to be guilty and worried about. Smooth and soft like a simple cotton apron.....what a LOVE STORY!!! I hope you got the same fundamentally wholesome "nucleus" of goodness in your early youth. Remember an oil well engine way back in your infancy? And how 'bout Heidi!? Love, Buck"

Here is where I begin to question the level of honesty and openness that I want to have with him. His message is warm and lovely. I have no doubt that my grandmother was a very loving mother to him. But is it time to tell him my reality? Does he need to know that because my mother had to raise and support us kids on her own; that she was always at work or collapsed in a state of exhaustion on the couch, and therefore emotionally and somewhat physically unavailable to me? That nothing for us was really ever simple? Does he need to know that I was actually a quite lonely child and craved the love of a parent? The adoration and pride? That because of this desire for approval and love I wasted a lot of time pleasing others and lived with a secretive and painful void in my heart? Is it time to really dive into the murky waters of the past in the hopes of untangling the weeds to achieve a state of serene clarity? Is it truly necessary to speak of that which we cannot change? The past which I have spent years slowly releasing myself from the bondage of?

Am I ready? Is he ready?

I refuse to be anything less than honest. Is the unspoken truth a form of deception? What is better left unsaid here? That is the question.

The Rest is Fleeting

Well... I fell asleep at an almost respectable hour...12:30 a.m.
But, I woke up at 3 a.m. and have been up ever since. I made a failed attempt to go back to sleep and then watched an assortment of the odd television that is on in the wee hours, including video footage of "William" the boxing kangaroo attacking his handlers on a talk show.

Today is my bi-weekly call-in day for my unemployment check, and I have noticed that I usually don't sleep well the night before I have to call in. My time slot is 8 a.m.-9 a.m. and if I were to miss it, I have to wait until Thursday, which delays the check a week. Considering I am now strapped to the max, I can't afford to have a check come in late.

This is the first month that I will be paying my mortgage late. I've paid it early every month. The last thing I wanted to do was start paying bills late, but I had little choice this month. The $184 mystery electric bill really held my head under water. In fact, I wound up bouncing two checks during the ordeal. Another thing I didn't/don't want to do.

I applied online with a company while I was was waiting for my call-in time. They don't have any positions advertised as available... but who knows! I think after applying for a bartending job at a "tittie bar," just about anything is fair game! I'm hoping to finally meet up with C.F. this week, so I can handle one more week of not working... but after that... SOMETHING HAS TO COME MY WAY!!!!!

The holidays are coming up! Christmas presents won't be an option on my current budget. Sometimes I don't think breathing is an option on my current budget! I'm already doing everything I can to save money: dishes by hand, minimal laundry, unplugging everything I can, not eating as much, not buying groceries, not flushing the toilet for number 1's, and heating my house with space heaters sparingly. Not fun, but you gotta do what you gotta do!

A Walk in The Park...

Sunday. The "Day of Rest."

I slept well, and slept in. Woke up feeling energized and ready to seize the day. A walk to the park nearby was planted in my head as the first thing on my list of things to do for the day. So I geared up in some jeans, tennis shoes, a long sleeve t-shirt and hooded sweatshirt. Topped off my outdoorsy ensemble with a fleece beanie and headed out the door.

I was surprised and slightly ashamed at how quickly I made it down there. Why hadn't I walked down there throughout the summer? Oh yeah. Not supposed to live in the past or beat myself up for the "would have" should haves!"

Anyway, it was a beautiful adventure. The rustling in the bushes, birds singing in the trees... and the leaves turning vibrant shades of red. I even had a groundhog cross the trail ahead of me, and it reminded me of my recently deceased backyard friend. I had taken my camera and took advantage of the surrounding beauty by snapping over twenty photos. My beautiful adventure was a quiet walk, hand-in-hand with Mother Nature herself. And just what I needed for the day.

I'm really trying to take a better approach at life. To better celebrate each gift the new days bring. Sure I might not have any money to spend, but my spirit soothing stroll didn't cost me a dime. A lot of life's great joys are free! And speaking of free... on a whim I decided to seek out a piano on Craig's List last night. And by 4 p.m. today, I had one! And if my luck wasn't already pouring over the brim... I ran into a friend of mine that happily offered to help me move it from the woman's house to mine! So before my decision to learn the piano or guitar even had a chance to fade away, I had to replace it with the final plans to make it a reality! I should be clunking and plunking away on it by Monday of next week!

Ahhh... Drunk People!

On the phone now with my friend who was already "buzzed" about two hours ago. I knew I was in trouble when I answered. Gotta love her. So many "f" bombs... my eardrums have been blown to bits. Why do drunk people feel the need to repeat things over, and over, and over, and over again! Hilarious! She's texting a guy that she "likes a lot" but yet continues with...

"Piss off you little fuckin' weasel headed fuck. I like him ALOT. You little fuck. You little fuck! I love him. I want to fuck him."

Now, I'm trapped in a "tennis match" of sexual-tension fueled text message readings and she is holding me responsible for coming up with the perfect response to get him over to his house so they can "do it."

"You're witty... come on!!!!"

Come on!?! I'm sober, in sweats, and half asleep... sheeesh! I haven't played the drunk hook-up game in years!

I endured 1 hour, 47 minutes, and 18 seconds of that! If I charged 99 cents a minute, I would have made $105!!!! Maybe THIS is my "calling!"

I need to start charging, recording this stuff or... start drinking heavily!

I'm In Love...

What an absolutely wonderful time my cousin and I had! I haven't laughed that much and that regularly in the course of one day in far too long! The weather was great! The people of the city were nice and welcoming. The hotel, a "Hilton," was very nice... and don't they have the most comfortable beds in the world! Too bad I was busy soaking in all of the fun and didn't spend much time in it!

The location of the show: The Embassy Theater in Fort Wayne, Indiana. This venue is definitely a must-see for anyone who appreciates history and intricate architecture! Gorgeous! A very nice size too! We had no issues getting in or out of the concert, and I didn't even have to wait a half an hour in a mile long line to pee in a dirty bathroom strewn with toilet paper! Nope! You were next in line at the Embassy!

We saw BEN FOLDS and the Fort Wayne Philharmonic Orchestra! Phenomenal show! The orchestra played a nice mix of classical and contemporary music. My favorite being the Beatles medley. Now Ben Folds... if you aren't a Ben Folds fan, you should be. I don't think I have ever been more impressed with a performer's connection and interaction with the crowd. You got a sense that he truly loves his fans, especially when he invited the crowd to sing in a few songs... even stopping to teach the right key! His music is unique, creative, witty and fun. His piano playing: AMAZING!

Afterwards, we walked to a nearby pub so my cousin could have an "adult" beverage. The conductors from the show happened to be there. We yucked it up a bit with the locals and some of the Philharmonic talents, and then headed to another place for a bit. I, being the ass that I am, actually stopped on the empty dance floor and indulged in a little gratuitous booty shaking on the way out. My ass hadn't seen a bar or a dancefloor in years. It was good for a laugh from the crowd! I'll never see those people again anyway!

Before we left town we ate at "Tuscani's" (downtown Fort Wayne). I was so hungry I could hardly read, so I went right to the item that said "voted best pizza." The "hand-pinched sausage" pizza. Us pizza lover's are pretty serious about our pizza... so I figured it had to at least be good. And was it ever! The cheese! The crust! The sauce! LOVE! I'm in love with a pizza!

Can't say enough about the time I had. Beautiful in so many ways. I'll never forget it! I needed that escape so badly! However, I am quite tired from all of the elation, and still sorting through the treasured memories... so I will leave it at that for now. Goodnight kiddos!