One day, on your own terms........?

A new addition to my list of all time favorite movies is Juno. It is near and dear to my heart obviously because it is a movie about teenage pregnancy. The Ex and I had our son when we were sophomores in high school..... I was not quite 16. I have basically put a mental block on that entire year, and even the rest of high school after that is kind of fuzzy. The movie Juno, however, was/is highly effective in dredging up all those burried emotions. Whenever I need to get a good cry out, I put Juno in the DVD player (I could use one now in fact).

The scene that causes me to just absolutely lose it is towards the end (don't worry.... no spoilers here) when Juno is laying in the hospital bed and her dad tells her not to worry, that one day she'll be back on her own terms. Now that I'm divorced at the age of almost 30, the odds of being back "on my own terms" have dramatically dropped. Sure, I know that most of my friends don't have any kids yet, but I am in the unique situation of having a child that will be gone to college in 4 years..... COLLEGE. The thought of having to haul a diaper bag when I go to visit my son at Such-and-Such University kind of gives me the willies. But, hey......who knows.

Anywho, this is how I feel when I watch Juno (whilst imbibing..... it was a bad night).......

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(originally posted April 17, 2008)

"....one day, you'll be back here on your own terms." ~ Juno's Dad, Juno

Will I ever be back on my own terms?? Two kids, never on my own terms. I fucking love this movie, but it just makes me so sad..... so, so very sad. This is the 3rd time I've seen in..... twice in the theater, and went and bought it on DVD today. And I'm running it for the second time right now. Partly because I love the soundtrack dearly. And partly because I'm a masochistic fuck. There are SO many good one liners.... it's such a good movie..... perhaps because it hits me in the gut, but then again does it in the style of humor that is so me. "Up the Spout" is such an appropriately named track..... it plays when she's taking her 3rd pregnancy test. And maybe I like Tire Swing so much because it's the song that plays when she's on her way home from taking her last test, knowing that she is, for shizz, up the spout.

("I had a dream that I had to drive to Madison......to deliver a painting for some silly reason.... I took a wrong turn and ended up in Michigan..... Paul Baribou took me to a giant tire swing......" I can't ever figure out if the "silly reason" is delivering the painting, or ending up in Michigan. )

I've been for shizz up the spout..... twice. Being up the spout is not a good thing. Its one of those "oh fuck" moments, not "oh congratuations this is a blessed event" moments. And "oh fuck" moments are followed by many "woah is me" moments. Funny how the same scenario in two different settings can be so radically differently perceived. That's what I was saying the other day about truth..... there's no such thing as absolute truth. It's all a matter of perception..... truth is seen through the lenses of perception. I guess there is an absolute truth somewhere, but not in the grasp of humans.

Anyway..... Juno. I've drank 1.4 bottles of wine watching Juno this fine eve. And it's about to be 1.7 after I get this next hefty glass. *pause* Ok, fresh glass. I know my son saw me crying, though I hope he didn't. Kids are so good with self-blame...... it's not his fault, not his cause, not his problem. I'm not sad or regretful that I have him. He's the most wonderful son a mom could ask for. But even when you make the best of a bad situation, it still is a bad situation, and fucks you up accordingly. Maybe not on the daily, but at times.... like, when you watch Juno, and you're back in the sophomore year in High School and folk are looking at you crazy in the cafeteria and the dumb fuck that's the other half of this extra-human-equasion is telling you that he doesn't need you and he'll just take care of his "responsibility" (i.e. whatever child support gets calculated off his $4.75/hr job at McDonalds..... $35/wk or some shits).

My own terms..... hmmm, wonder what that would be like?? What would it be like to be happy about the impeding arrival of a baby?? What would it be like to have people look at your protruding belly with admiration instead of shame? What would it be like for people to be *truly* happy for you, instead of putting up a fascade around you and then whispering about how sad it is behind your back? Will I ever know?? My son is going to high school next year...... odds are kinda slim. But on the flip side, I'm only 29 flipping years old.

("Paulie is actually great.... in the.... chair." Wish I coulda said the same. First time was..... well...... nevermind. )

I just want someone I can spend time with (ok, so this is totally related to being for shizz up the spout...... but fuckit). He's already got the new stepfamily lined up and everything...... I don't introduce my kids to no damn body cuz it's just never been that deep or been able to be that deep. Can I watch a video with someone?? Can someone come by and bring Mike and Ikes and Milk Duds to my kids so they'll like him while he's watching TV with moms??

(".... kickin it Old Testament....." Hellz yea.)

Why am I running this movie AGAIN for the second time in a row???? Just go put on your iPod, idiot!! Oh yea, the iPod dock is in Offspring 2's room because she can't sleep without the radio, and I can't sleep with earbuds in my ears. I just love how he paints me as the reluctant mother..... I give up my iPod every damn night, dammit! That counts for something!! (joking) Ok, finally starting to feel a little more subdued, even though I know in the AM I'm going to feel like shit on a stick. Ah, the double edged sword of self medicating.......

I just hope my kids love me...... and understand that I'm feeling my way through this shyt. My Son asked me if I was alright tonight......... I told him, honestly, no. I'm not. Just to the right of ok. I'm sure he knows I'm drunk as hell right now, but I keep my drunk to myself. He hasn't seen Juno yet. Maybe when he does he'll understand my mood on April 16, 2008.

If you haven't seen Juno yet, go rent it ASAP. And think of me.

The Last Anniversary

The last anniversary we "celebrated" together was our 7 year anniversary (ironic, huh?). I use the term "celebrate" very loosely because there wasn't much celebration that ever went on in our relationship. Anniversaries, birthdays and holidays were rarely planned out special days..... kind of half-hearted, lackluster, after the fact events. The Ex would often blame this on his Jehovah's Witness upbringing, even though he hadn't stepped foot in a Kingdom Hall in all the time I've known him and neither has his mother. But to me that was a cop out because it's not like he had some active religious conviction against celebrating holidays, and he knew that those sorts of things were important to me. No, loved ones, that was just apathy and laziness. And I am by no means a high maintenance girl.... all I ask for is some thought.

So anyway, this is what I was thinking on that final wedding anniversary.......

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(originally posted Monday July 24, 2006)

So.... its my anniversary. Just a day like any other day, but with a card. (I wish I would have invented greeting cards... they make BANK.) I spent all my celebrating money on my son, sending him to football camp and AAU Nationals. So I sit at home. I could go out to Applebees on the money I have left til the 15th, or something like that, but I just don't feel like it. The guy is still here installing my new Dish Network system (so now I have DVR... yessssssss!) and by the time he gets done, it'll be close to 8. I came home and all of the energy and good feelings just drained out of me spontaineously. My daughter is doing flips on the floor ("Mommy look at me!! Mommy watch me!! Mommy did you see that?!? Look again! You should've seen that! Mom... mom... mom....."). I'm actually home "early" today (before 9pm).

So its my anniversary, and I'm just not feeling it. Maybe because over the years I've just gotten used to the disappointment of rarely celebrating birthdays or anniversaries or holidays unless its a half-hearted afterthought or I make it happen, so I just don't bother. Not that I'm cool with it, I just come to expect it, and I don't raise hell like many other women because I know its absolutely futile. An effort was made on my birthday this year, but that ended up being disasterous and one of the worst birthdays I've ever had. (*NOTE: I ended up going to the Pink concert ALONE. On my birthday. Yea.)

I just want to get in my bed and pull the covers over my head and not talk. But he won't let me not talk. Sometimes I just don't want to speak.... to anyone. Why don't I have that right? That's the problem with living with someone else.... all of your time, emotions, thoughts, actions, feelings, and behaviors MUST be accounted for. And I'm a person that does things spontaineously; I have few routines in my life. Sometimes I brush my teeth before I put on my makeup, sometimes after. I don't want to have to explain WHY. I already hear him huffing over there because I'm not feeling well..... and "not feeling well" is my code phrase for "I'm really, really, really depressed to the point where I hurt; my chest hurts and my shoulders hurt and my neck hurts and my nerves are raw and irritable so leave me the fuck alone if you know what's good for you." And I drank a mug of wine and that didn't help.

My daughter is sitting on my back. I can't tell her to get off because I'm never here and she just misses me. The least I can do is let her sit on my back and count by fives in my ear. Though I'm quite irritated and wish she would stop.

My 7 year anniversary.... I just want to order some carry-out, pick up a bottle of wine and a pint of Ben & Jerry's Oatmeal Cookie Chunk ice cream and call it a night. Fifteen pounds to lose be damned. I wanted chinese but my Spot is closed on Monday. Poo. Maybe Outback.

This is probably the most boring blog I've written... but this is real deal, stream of consciousness, no break between the cerebellum and the fingertips (I don't even know if I'm talking about the correct part of the brain... I'm a lawyer, not a doctor.... though I'd really like one of those "Trust me I'm a Doctor" t-shirts so when people ask "Are you really a doctor" I can so "No, but I'm a lawyer." Yea, I'm a dork....). But this is a very TAME glimpse into my brain.... trust me.

Mourning at weddings

As I've stated before, I know that it is unrealistic to expect that the feelings you have about your significant other will always be as strong and passionate as the day you met/married them..... love in marriages ebbs and flows. But what happens when it flows out and doesn't flow back?? I'm sure you can guess.

These were some thoughts I had a little less than I year before I got separated.....

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(Originally posted Sunday July 23, 2006)

Yesterday evening I went to a wedding... not just a wedding, but one of THE weddings that signifies the coming of Armageddon-- one of The Ex's friends from high school actually tied the knot (and yes, I went to church today so I can start getting myself right). The whole thing was beautiful, yet very simple.... my favorite types of weddings because the focus is on the love of the couple and not the flowers, the bridesmaid dresses, the decorations. God must be very pleased with their union because they couldn't have asked for a more perfect day for an outdoor wedding (The groom's dad only gave one specific thank you, and that was to whoever sacraficed the goat to have such a perfect day).

I usually cry at weddings (for whatever odd reason people cry at weddings) but I didn't at this one. I made sure I held it in because I knew that once I started, I wouldn't be able to stop. I think a lot of people cry with tears of happiness; however, the tears that I worked to hold back (and had to go to the bathroom a few times to wrestle with in private) were tears of sadness, tears of loss. My heart melted (or did it fracture?) as the bride and groom danced their first dance together as husband and wife to Stevie Wonder's "Overjoyed" and as the groom danced with is beautiful new wife, he sang along in her ear.....

While I was very happy for The Ex's friend and his bride and all of their friends and family, was sad for myself. Somewhere between July 24, 1999 and July 23, 2006, something got lost along the way, and I'm reminded of it when I go to weddings and see the happiness and hope on the faces of the bride and groom. Somewhere amongst raising kids and working and paying bills and the daily struggles of just trying to get along with a person besides yourself, I think love can slip through the cracks into a dark corner, alone and forgotten. Then marriage just becomes a matter of maintaining.... all your efforts go into keeping the ship in one piece and keeping the damn thing afloat, so that you forget why you got on the ship in the first place and its just a matter of trying not to drown in the middle of the ocean.

I wish I could go back and find that feeling.... or is it just normal for it to be gone? I wouldn't know.... although my parents are still together, and both my grandmothers were married until the day my grandfathers died (same day, about 4 years apart; coincidentally my dad's birthday... bummer) none of the 3 couples were/are happy. My grandparents fought incessantly; I remember my grandparents refusing to ride in the same car to church, my grandmother complaining about having to cook breakfast for "that skinny-ass man"; it was often a tense environment, even though I only saw each of them at most twice a year growing up. Same with my parents....when they are actually getting along, I feel like I'm in the twilight zone. But they stayed together. Is life and marriage just supposed to be miserable like that in order to reap the "benefits" of marriage? I hope not, because I can't live that way the rest of my life.

I don't want to be a person who is in love with being in love.... that's just not a viable and realistic way to live life. But I also shouldn't feel so irritated, so "just leave me alone and quit bothering me", so lacking in affection. I'm tired of being pulled in directions I don't want to go and have to go through the motions just to keep the peace. Tired of being misunderstood, but not even understanding myself what I'm looking for. I just don't know.... I've got nobody to guide me. I'm just tired of mourning at weddings.

The A Word

Let me first start out by saying that I am, without a doubt, 107.3% pro choice. I'm glad that women have that option and that degree of control over their reproductive health. HOWEVER, I am also a mother and for me personally, as far as I can conceive of right now, abortion is not an option for me. But I'm glad I have that choice.

Now with that disclaimer out of the way, I will say that one of the turning point in my decision process of my divorce centered around this very issue. When I separated from my ex, I knew for certain it was something necessary for me, yet I still struggled with the decision of whether actually going through the divorce was what I really wanted to do. My Ex would ask me incessantly what I was going to do, when was I going to file, why don't I just get it over with. And everytime the answer was the same: I. Don't. Know. Even after I filed (pro se, that's a whole 'nother story) I still wasn't 100% certain about actually going through with it. And even still after the preliminary hearing, I still wasn't convinced.

In January of this year, after I found out our son had been accepted to private school for high school (I have a high schooler.....every time I think about that it gives me a lil twinge of shock/fear/awe) I thought that maybe I should give Us another try. We had been getting along better, had even spent Christmas together, so I agreed to explore the option of reconciliation.

So we're having one of our honest heart to hearts (which with him are always dangerous.....I've learned that with him its best to plead the fif and keep it moving) and he drops a BOMB on me: he'd gotten some chick pregnant ALLEGEDLY, and that he was going to have to pay for her abortion. I. Felt. Sick. At first he told me he'd already done it, but later I found out she'd yet to go.

So many conflicting thoughts and emotions were going through me during those few weeks. I was angry at The Ex for being so stupid and irresponsible (he claimed it was a one night stand, not even someone he was seeing regularly) and angry at him for bringing this issue into our family. I was sad that this woman had to go through that and was faced with that decision and felt compassion for her having been faced with that decision myself twice before (both times, at 15 and 19, I opted to keep my children). It made me do some serious soul searching, because on the one hand I was, I guess, hoping that she went through with it so it wouldn't be something that I had to deal with going forward (baby mama drama and all that), but then on the other hand I thought about my own children and the fact that this was potentially a SIBLING of theirs, and how growing up, and to this day, I never regarded my half-sister as anything but my sister just as equally as I regarded my full sister and brother. That inner conflict hurt me to the core of my soul. I cried. A lot. For myself, for him, for her, for my kids, everyone.

Ultimately, she did get the abortion. Even though that situation was "over", it wasn't over. I wouldn't go so far as to say I couldn't forgive him because one of the major things I've worked on for myself is my willingness and ability to forgive (myself as well as others), but it was definitely a factor that had me leaning toward permenant Splitsville. It seems to me if he'd really been serious about wanting to get back together all that time, he would have made sure that we wouldn't have had to deal with something as serious as an outside addition to our family, because that's potentially could have been. I just couldn't handle that level of carelessness and negligence.....downright recklessness. And not to say that I didn't have folk that I'd dealt with, but I made for DAMN sure that an unwanted pregnancy was not going to be an issue. That was a level of complication I did not want in our lives.

I still think about her from time to time. I hope she's ok.

The Art of Seduction: a botany lesson

In an attempt to better arm myself out in the new scary dating world, I decided to read the book "The Art of Seduction" by Robert Greene (also the author of "48 Laws of Power"). I started reading it not so much to get tips and pointers to learn how to seduce others, but more so to be able to spot attempts to seduce me, particularly those attempts of a more nefarious nature. The first part of the book describes different "seduction styles" to help you identify what variety of seducer that you are. I was so taken by what I feel is my particular seduction style that I went so far as to tattoo its symbol on my body and have started incorporating it in many other aspects of my life (I use it in my business, too). My particular seduction style, according to Robert Greene, is The Dandy (in particular, the Masculine Dandy) and its symbol is the Orchid.



Here's what Greene has to say about my particular seduction style:


Most of us feel trapped within the limited roles that the world expects us to play. We are instantly attracted to those who are more fluid, more ambiguous, than we are—those who create their own persona. Dandies excite us because they cannot be categorized, and hint at a freedom we want for ourselves. They play with masculinity and femininity; they fashion their own physical image, which is always startling; they are mysterious and elusive. They also appeal to the narcissism of each sex: to a woman they are psychologically female, to a man they are male. Dandies fascinate and seduce in large numbers. Use the power of the Dandy to create an ambiguous, alluring presence that stirs repressed desires.

The two emotions that almost every male felt in the presence of Lou Andreas-Salomé were confusion and excitement—the two prerequisite feelings for any successful seduction. People were intoxicated by her strange mix of the masculine and the feminine; she was beautiful, with a radiant smile and a graceful, flirtatious manner, but her independence and her intensely analytical nature made her seem oddly male. This ambiguity was expressed in her eyes, which were both coquettish and probing. It was confusion that kept men interested and curious: no other woman was like this. They wanted to know more. The excitement stemmed from her ability to stir up repressed desires. She was a complete nonconformist, and to be involved with her was to break all kinds of taboos. Her masculinity made the relationship seem vaguely homosexual; her slightly cruel, slightly domineering streak could stir up masochistic yearnings, as it did in Nietzsche. Salomé radiated a forbidden sexuality. Her powerful effect on men—the lifelong infatuations, the suicides (there were several), the periods of intense creativity, the descriptions of her as a vampire or a devil—attest to the obscure depths of the psyche that she was able to reach and disturb.

The Masculine Dandy succeeds by reversing the normal pattern of male superiority in matters of love and seduction. A man's apparent independence, his capacity for detachment, often seems to give him the upper hand in the dynamic between men and women. A purely feminine woman will arouse desire, but is always vulnerable to the man's capricious loss of interest; a purely masculine woman, on the other hand, will not arouse that interest at all. Follow the path of the Masculine Dandy, however, and you neutralize all a man's powers. Never give completely of yourself; while you are passionate and sexual, always retain an air of independence and self-possession. You might move on to the next man, or so he will think. You have other, more important matters to concern yourself with, such as your work. Men do not know how to fight women who use their own weapons against them; they are intrigued, aroused, and disarmed. Few men can resist the taboo pleasures offered up to them by the Masculine Dandy.

Symbol: The Orchid.

Its shape and color oddly suggest both sexes, its odor is sweet and decadent—it is a tropical flower of evil. Delicate and highly cultivated, it is prized for its rarity; it is unlike any other flower.

(Robert Greene, The Art of Seduction)

After reading this, I was quite intrigued and did a little more research into the meaning behind orchids:

Orchids are a long-lasting and particularly elegant type of flower. Their graceful appearance draws immediate attention, and their reputation as an exotic and unusual flower evokes a sense of refinement and innocence. Despite their versatility, there is something distinctly exotic about orchids. They are intricately beautiful to the everyday flower lover and are considered to be some of the world's most evolved flowers to flower specialists.

The orchid has several deep and long-standing meanings. Ironically, some of those meanings are overtly masculine in nature, while others are overtly feminine. On the masculine side, the name "orchis" itself stems from the Greek word meaning testicle, and is associated with the flower because of the shape of the tuberoids which grow on the roots. Among multiple meanings, one meaning the Chinese associate with the orchid is the "Perfect Man."

On the feminine side, the orchid is also a symbol of beauty, charm, and refinement. In Greek mythology, Satyrion - for whom a family of orchids is named- was a nymph who gave birth to a child fathered by Poseidon. Due to its beauty and its fragrance, the orchid is often referred to as the Flower of Magnificence.

Perhaps it is those meanings which combine the masculine and feminine that best represent the orchid flower. In Confucian teachings, the orchid was the symbol for numerous progeny. It was considered a love potion and aphrodisiac in many countries, including Egypt, Germany, China, and Africa.

But as against its external looks, orchids also symbolize strength.

Thus, this is what lead me to the design of Le Divorce Tattoo:

If that isn't seductive, I don't know what is.