It Just SUCKS! But…

I’m sure you all have heard the phrase “The Straw That Broke The Camels Back”. And I’m fairly certain that all of us have at several times in our lives, had our backs broken over something ridiculously innocuous. Well, today was another one of those days, meaning I’m going to rant and rave. I will be using gratuitous language and am in no mood to take any prisoners. I will probably burn down the bridges that are in desperate disrepair instead of beating my head against the wall to try and fix them. I will more and likely be using way too many so called contrived sayings and anecdotes. By doing all of this, I am in no way looking for sympathy, empathy, platitudes, advice, words of wisdom, uplifting saying, or sunshine blown up my ass. This is also not a platform for anyone to make themselves feel better by using me and my situation as a charity case. Please note that whatever issue I have with people that I may mention or refer too, is between me and them. That I am not trying to recruit an army to wage war with them or turn people against them. I’m wanting to rant and be done with it.

I am angry. And I don’t want to pretend anymore that everything is OK. I’m sick of trying to find a silver lining in those rancid storm clouds. Honestly folks, that silver lining is called lightening! I am fed up with this whole …”Things will get better! You just need to believe that it will!” … Or any other related concepts … I am tired of being the one who makes up the excuse for everyone else’s despicable behaviour! “…Oh, she probably had a rough morning…” “… I caught him at a bad time …” There’s no excuse to be a bitch or a prick. Know yourself. If something is troubling you, politely let people know that it’s best to come back at another time. It’s not that you have to go into detail. “… You know love, I’m not in the best of moods right now. Can we talk later?” … I know! I know! For those of you who have read this far, your heads are probably exploding! Screaming that you can’t do that at work, or in this situation or that situation. I understand that whole heartedly and that is one of the reason why I’m on this rant! IT FUCKIN’ SUCKS!

I’ve always been dubious, rather skeptical even about things that are “meant to be” and the idea, that if you truly want something, the Universe will conspire to provide it for you. I feel that we have a bit more control and power over our lives than to leave it to fate and things meant to be. That when life goes awry, it’s a matter of circumstance & coincidence. And it’s in those times that we discover our limitations, strengths & weaknesses, we question our beliefs, our goals & aspirations or bind ourselves more adamantly to them. I suppose I’m questioning, now that I know more of my limits & weakness. …

One thing that I did … Well, maybe still do … Maybe … Is what goes around, comes around. But does it? I am struggling financially. So much so that I am on the verge of losing everything. I’m not saying this to be dramatic, it’s a matter of fact. It’s a matter of circumstance that I got into this situation, but I can’t help to think what did I do wrong? It turns over and over in my head like a hamster wheel. And you know what keeps popping up as the answer? … I was/am too fuckin’ nice …

I did everything I knew of to be kind and understanding from the beginning of the end of my last marriage through the divorce and even afterward. He was such a jerk to me that other people constantly asked “… What the hell is going on!?…” Ahhh, but the kind and understanding me came up with brilliant excuses for him and even pretended that this is what I wanted. … Again, some of you are screaming the new slogan “… You don’t need a bruise to be abused..” Believe you me, I know this! I should have listened to all those people who said that I should have sued him for every penny he had. But no, I was kind, took only what was promised. Even after all was said and done I still was too kind, and spent nearly €1000 sorting through and getting rid of all the junk he left behind. … OK, he did reimburse €40 and some change. … Ack … Maybe this whole debacle was my penance for some bad shit that I did in a past life … If there is such a thing as past lives … If Heaven forbid that I do this all over again would I have done things differently? Well of course I would have! Would I be able to be relentless and brutal? … I don’t know.  And would it have help my situation now? … Who can say?

At the end of last year. My land lady was in a desperate way financially. Both her Husband and Son lost their jobs, her car broke down and new regulations for property owner renting out their places made our current arrangement unsustainable for her and her family. When my exe left and I struggled with money, the school, and even food, she bent over backward to help me stay afloat. So when she was struggling, I wiped out my accounts to help her out. Maybe I actually had too much faith that the Universe wouldn’t leave me hanging for a good deed. I thought that I would recover quickly, but again no. I didn’t realise that I milked every last drop from my rock. There was/is no money, no savings left. Now I’m in over my head in over due room hire charges, and far enough behind on my payments to my accountant that they won’t file my bi-monthly VAT or year end taxes. Maybe I should have claimed squatter’s rights and not pay anything to my landlady? She would have had to spend more money than what it’s worth to get me out if I did that. I know I did the right thing and would probably do it again. But I question whether doing the right thing was worth it? I understand that in this case I was on the other side of Karma. I was given a good turn and it was time for me to do a good turn back. Still was it worth it?

I have choices. I know that I do. With all the financial difficulties that I have it’s probably best to just drop the whole thing. The school, the volunteering … everything. I’m fighting and fighting to keep it all going for what? There’s so much that I want to put in motion for the community. But I don’t have the money to get them started on my own, or if I tried to get help, I’m being ignored because I owe money and it would look bad if they had someone that owes money organizing the project. It would be a conflict of interest … I know that doesn’t make much sense. It’s not because of my inability to convey an idea or concept, it’s simply because it make absolutely no sense what’s so ever. So why bother? You can’t even do good unless you have money. I use to have faith in people that when push comes to shove that for the most part will do the best they can for themselves AND those around them. Not so much now. I’m believing more and more that when push comes to shove that people will choose the option with the most money, and then pretend that it was for the best. We are all assholes… Sure, you all are laughing. “You just now figured that out!?” No, I figured it out a long time ago. I’m just now conceding defeat. Congratulations, you won.

I’m even struggling in my fight to keep the Shaolin school running. Back to the idea of is it worth it? Three years ago, I managed to get out from under a tyrannical regime and quite literally had to start the school over again from nearly scratch. I didn’t want it to be a school that catered popular martial arts. I didn’t want it to be a day care for kids. I didn’t want to push people through belt levels to stroke their egos and to cash in on their testing fees… I put together a curriculum, and no it’s not perfect and there was a lot of trial and error. But it’s a hell of a lot better than it was before. None of the students really know what I went through to keep the school running. Going up against the tyrants and their henchmen, along with my husband (now exe) as well. So they don’t realise what it means to me when they say and do the things they do. I can’t really blame them for that. I try and maneuver around it and so far so good, but for fuck sake it still pisses me off. I’m being told that this other martial arts school has been around for so long and does all these cool things, and that I should do these things that this other martial arts school is doing and this  martial arts school has all these students and, and, and … And I’m thinking; ‘Why the hell are you even here? If all those other schools are doing all these great things that you want. Go to that school!’ …The complaining about the requirements … I put in those requirements for good reason. I put in those requirements so that they can say that they are a true martial artist under any and all conditions. Not just when the sun is shining, or indoors on a flat surface, or a particular situation. Of course there’s always going to be complaining. I even complain, but the disrespect that is mounting recently is inadmissible. Again, is it worth fighting to keep a school for this?

Now here’s me making up excuses for them … I am very open to new ideas and ways of doing things. I invite students to try other martial arts and even bring those techniques into class and try them out in sparring. It all might be a case that they don’t know how to convey this in a way that is respectful and as a suggestion, yet. The angry complaining on the other hand, is nearly punishable. I probably made the mistake of being me. I’m a silly middle aged woman who’s a bit off kilter. I probably made the mistake of being too buddy buddy with the students. So they see me as a dopy wannabe martial arts instructor that’s better at baking cookies than teaching them how to defend themselves or to throw a proper punch or kick.

Any of this worth the fight? What’s stopping me from dropping everything and disappearing?

… I do have some REMARKABLE students though. They keep showing up even though they failed their belt test for the 3rd time! They don’t complain and take on the curriculum and the training full steam ahead! … I have some INCREDIBLE friends too. Old and new. Friends that have stuck with me through thick and thin. True friends that aren’t afraid to say “Hey, you’re being a real bitch!” and put me back in my place … There is this GORGEOUSE man, this AMAZINLY INTELLIGENT man that walks and talks with me by day and sleeps and dreams with me by night. A BEAUTIFUL soul that hasn’t been harden and immune to life, that I think likes me well enough and for the moment is sticking around…

I suppose the choice is pretty clear … Meaning, the fight needs to change … My situation hasn’t changed though. I’m still going to lose it all if I don’t come up with something soon. People are assholes. Regardless of what anyone says, MONEY IS GOD! It just SUCKS! … But at least I have some REMARKABLE STUDENTS, some INCREDIBLE FRIENDS and one AWESOME GUY!


Throne For A Thorn

I took out the thorn in my side today. It sat in that chair festering. I had no place else to put it. I had no room left in my modest yet comfortable home. So there it sat reminding me of the rope burns from being left hanging, the road rash from being thrown under the bus. It reminded me of my disappointment in all those who said they wouldn’t take sides but so totally did in their silence. It sat there reminding me of the empty promises of “We’ll still be friends” … And not just from the one …

It was to be removed before May of last year. But it wasn’t. It was a lot bigger back then. It spread all over the house and lurked in the dusty corners, rotting. I pecked away at it. Only a little at first, my skin was still tender. As my skin grew thicker, I dug deeper, pulling more and more of it out until I was left with this thorn stuck so deep that not even my bitterness or anger could get rid of it. It would have cost money that I didn’t have to extract it, so it sat right there on that chair…

But today was or is a beautiful day. And today I’m living in the most Amazing place in an Incredible time with the most Remarkable people I have ever known! … So I went to the post office today and pulled out the thorn in my side…chair.jpg

The 3rd Coyote Is Irish!


… Well, a naturalized Irish citizen at least …

I went up to Dublin to declare my loyalty to the State and fidelity to the Irish Nation. I was guided by a spectacular sunrise and surrounded by people from 120 different countries!

The ceremony started with a concert by the Irish Army Band. I smiled ear to ear as it reminded me of all my years in various marching bands with the stiff polyester uniforms, those military hats and white gloves. Those white gloves that the woodwinds would have to cut holes in them so our fingers could get a better grip on the keys.

My memory started to wonder back to when my Mother had gone to her citizenship ceremony to become a U.S. Citizen. She wore navy blue polyester bell bottoms. Fitting attire for the mid 70’s. A corresponding polyester blouse, white with navy polka dots and frills on the short sleeves and waist.  She also wore high heeled platform shoes that brought her over 5 ft tall, possibly 5’3”. To me she looked like she grew into the clouds. Her hair hung in a jet black mass around her waist. I think I was 4, maybe 5? My younger brother played with a toy car under the folded chairs we sat in. My Father dressed in his Air Force blues.

I remember the speech that was given before they pledged allegiance and took their oath. Not word for word mind you, I was only 4 or 5 years old! I do however remember these words; “You are NO LONGER Oriental, African, Mexican or South American. You are an AMERICAN now!”  Even at such an innocent and tender age, I found those words horrifying! And they haunted me up to this day, but no longer …

I half expected a similar speech of “… Forget who and what you were in the past your are Irish now!…” No, no… It wasn’t like that at all… The first thing the Minister of Justice said was to NOT FORGET your old country, it’s history, it’s culture & traditions, but to embrace them and let it become part of the Irish legacy as  the Irish legacy is now part of ours and will be part of the generations to come. The Judge asked us not to deny our children the legacies and histories of our original countries but to teach them so that they know how it all came to be… I was AMAZED!

Growing up I was constantly told how I had to forget about that savage, despicable country I was born in. How I needed to become an American. I wasn’t allowed to learn the language, the culture or even learn how to cook it’s food… I had to learn all that on my own practically in secrete. I was sent to the principal’s office for bringing seaweed to school with my lunch. I was literally beaten and brutalised for not being American enough. No matter how hard I tried it was never American enough. The people that you are supposed to count on blew me off and couldn’t be bothered to even try to pronounce my first name. “You’ll just go by ‘Kim’.”  … But that’s not my name …

So when I heard those words of embracing my legacy I got all teary eyed and choked up. I could barely say my declaration of fidelity to the Irish Nation and loyalty to the State:

“I The3rd Coyote of my house, Cork City, having applied to the Minister for Justice and Equality for a certificate of naturalisation, hereby solemnly declare my fidelity to the Irish Nation and my loyalty to the State. I undertake to faithfully observe the laws of the State and to respect its democratic values.”

When I came to Ireland it was the first time in my life that I felt accepted, first time in my life that I felt the warm embrace of community and that feeling that you can go to sleep and rest because you’re HOME now. I rarely ever saw my Mother smile. One would think that she was a very unhappy woman. But when it came time for her to stand and say the pledge of allegiance, with her hand on her heart she smiled and she looked beautiful! When I made my declaration, I smiled and for the first time in my life I felt BEAUTIFUL!

Off The Cell – February 2015

Bridge Bridge on Sullivan’s Quay, Cork City, Ireland
The Lough N The Lough Looking North, Cork City, IrelandThe Lough SThe Lough Looking South, Cork City, IrelandFrom St Patricks St CorkPeter Paul Cathedral (?) From St. Patrick’s Street, Cork City, IrelandLee River. JpegThe River Lee @ Fitzgerald’s Park, Cork City, Ireland


Pink Camilia, C.O.P.E Foundation, Fermoy, Ireland

Keeping Samantha

Remembering you today on this last day of Tet Nguyen Dan – The Lantern Festival. It wasn’t as though we spent a lot of time together, not much at all. But you are my friend and I hope that I am yours. I met you at the Pow Wow in Centennial Colorado. You’re Father said that I looked exactly like you when you were 16. You showed me your regalia that’s been handed down from Mother to Daughter for generations. The beadwork was remarkable and how you modified it for your condition was beyond amazing. You accepted me in as one of your own. I knew I was Saux & Fox then. You told me your stories and confirmed much of my family’s folklore. My Great Grandmother was called “Rose” not for the flower, but for the colour of her skin! You were a Raven-Song come South and now a Coyote-Song. You were the story tellers, the keeper of the stories, the history. “We are immortal through our stories” you once said to me.

Today I keep your story alive
Samantha Coyote-Song (30 May 1966 – 5 March 2011)

Off The Cell – January 2015


13 January 2015, Ballyphehane, Cork City, Ireland



The Sun Setting On Tory Top Park

13 January 2015, Ballyphehane, Cork City, Ireland



13 January 2015, Ballyphehane Community Centre, Cork City, Ireland



13 January 2015, Grotto, Tory Top Road, Ballyphehane, Cork City, Ireland



13 January 2014, Nuns Walk, Ballyphehane, Cork City, Ireland



14 January 2015, Reendowny, Ballyphehane, Cork City, Ireland

Some Tips On Negotiating A Lonely Food Poisoning

There’s that gurgle that bubbles in your stomach. It doesn’t hurt but you definitely feel it and you certainly can hear it. You pay it no mind, but it persists, then starts to cramp. You go to the loo, but it doesn’t help. Nothing comes out … yet.  You start to feel it push up into your throat and you keep swallowing and taking deep breaths. You think that you might have it under control but then you sneeze or cough or worse you laugh … You grab your mouth and in a mad dash to the toilet or nearest waste basket **BLLEEEEEAAAAUUUGGHHHHACK … BLLEEEAH … ACK … *sigh* … BLLEEEEEAAAAUUUGGHHHHACK … BLEEEH BLEEH … UGH … ACK …** The point of no return. RJb2t A list of everything you ate in the last 48 hours races through your head. Was it the tuna? The egg salad? Naw, it couldn’t be, you didn’t have tuna or egg salad! What did you eat? Homemade beef stew, stewed to an inch of it life? Had a chocolate muffin freshly baked? Raw veggies – cucumbers, turnips,  sweet potatoes … aah shyte … that sweet potato tasted like Granny’s perfume. You threw away the lot, … or I should say I did … That didn’t help any, the devilish deed was done! I had food poisoning … yay … The most upsetting part about getting my most recent bout with food poisoning was that I am living alone and on my own. And the worst part about being on your own with food poisoning was cleaning up when it splatters or when you miss. There’s a whole strategy that you have to employ. No you can’t just lay curled up on the bathroom floor shivering, thriving in pain, or sitting awkwardly on the toilet while hanging your head over the tub or in a bucket. No, no none of that, because there isn’t another person there to clean up, there isn’t another person there to make sure your at least sipping water to stay hydrated, or to make sure there’s enough toilet paper. There isn’t that other person to tell you what day it is, what time it is, that your not dreaming, and those are not purple flying monkeys hanging off the ceiling. There isn’t that person there to draw the line and say; “OK, I’m taking  you to the emergency room!”

When you’re on  your own, you need to plan ahead as much as you can while you can. There isn’t much time but it is manageable. First things first is that you have to admit that you are sick and that there will be accidents. You will throw up on your shirt, the walls, the floors and you will poop your pants. It will splatter, and you will miss. In your misery you will not comprehend the actual passage of time and forget that although you may be living alone there are people that will assist you. So here’s some things you can do: Breath and focus. If you cannot manage the sickness into controlled outburst then you need to go to the hospital. Use large towels instead of blankets and pillows. They’re easier to wash. Lay down newspaper for easier clean up.  fb1 Put a plastic bag, or trash bag in the bucket/pot/bin that you have next to the bed or your head for barf. That way all you have to do is drain the bag and throw it out and replace it without cleaning out the container. Keep that container with you at all times. Make sure it’s a container you can in a sense “sit on” or wide enough for poor bottom aim. fb2 If you decide to spend time in bed lay down a couple of large plastic garbage bags on the mattress then cover with towels. Wear old undies that you don’t mind throwing out. Face it, there just may be leakage and you don’t want to ruin your mattress. Keep a glass, a bottle of water next to you and keep sipping water. Set an alarm to take a sip every 15 min or whatever increment suits. There’s a lot of this remedy and that potion, this food, that drink that every Tom Dick and Harry will say that you need. If I made any other suggestions other than water I’m sure someone will sue me. So you choose, but at least have the water.  I had lemon water with a little sea salt in it and a jar of honey with a little spoon. When I was awake every hour I would take a sip of lemon water and a drop of honey. Please don’t sue me because I told you what I did. Warm-Water-with-Lemon-and-Honey Stay connected! These days it’s really easy! As much as I feel that Facebook is the bane of human existence, it has become a necessary evil and a good tool to use in this case. Let people know that you are on your own and ill. Post every so often, comment, let people know your progress. It doesn’t have to be Facebook, it can be texting someone you know that doesn’t mind responding. Staying connected is your safety net. Staying connected is your cheerleader, your motivation to hang in there. Staying connected will let them know if they need to intervene and haul your ass to the hospital. Remember that it’s better if it’s out of your body. And if this is happening your body is working properly. So be happy! YaY! Food Poisoning! EVERYTHING IS WORKING BEAUTIFULLY! xTgnj6GTA You might be asking why did I write this. It’s rather gross and for many TMI! Honestly, I don’t know why I wrote this. I really don’t. I just got over experiencing a 4 day food poisoning horror movie and I suppose I wanted to share my … I don’t know, pain? Struggles? … eh… Well, I hope if anything it may help someone who may read this, or bring a bit of levity to a quite literally a crappy situation.

This Is Neat!

Copy and pasted the link ‘coz I don’t know how to re-blog properly, or that it didn’t give me a runway with flashing lights so that I can land the re-blog jet.

I Should Have Known … But I Guess I Did …

So I wrote this some time in 2012 I suspect. September maybe? It was titled “An Email To My Husband”. I lost it somewhere deep in the RAM or ROM of the Apple. I vaguely remember leaving it by the worm eating the bug with all the bites. It’s odd reading it. Especially now that the parchments have been delivered by carrier pigeon to the demigods ordained by the immaculate rubber stamp.  I Should Have Known … But I Guess I Did …

This isn’t a “Dear John” letter. You’re names’ not john. … Ha, ha … I know, it’s stupid. I still got a giggle out of it though.

I know that you hate long emails. I’ve tried to talk to you but … *sigh* … you did what you always do. You want the “short version”, you grump and look very annoyed, you do the “speed it up” hand gesture, I get flustered, I try to put it in a nutshell , but I end up leaving out the important points and reasons … you jump to conclusions, and make assumptions, with the end result of you being frustrated, & angry. So I quit and obsess silently over how can I tell you so that you will understand where I’m coming from.

…That’s if we get that far. Maybe it’s because I ask? “Can we talk about this?” The hackles go up and the eyes roll. I did try a few time to just start talking about it all, but stopped when you yelled at the computer. You accidentally put yourself in check on your internet chess game. … There was one time I though I was getting somewhere, but you were staring at the computer, so I said that there was man phuc’ing a poodle out on Grand Parade. … You nodded and said “Uh-huh.”

I know that I ramble, even babble. –  I’m long winded. I want to explain, with reason. I want to have a conversation, meaning you talk too. But I don’t know how to do this with you … *sigh* … We’re broken, and I don’t know what to do …

I knew something was off that Thanksgiving so long ago. We’ve been dating for 10 months. The longest relationship you’ve had since, and you tell me that you’re going to spend Thanksgiving with your friend and her family ‘cos that’s what you always do. I was hurt and upset and I couldn’t seem to explain to you that I was. I tried to understand, but why you didn’t want to spend Thanksgiving with your girlfriend? We ended up spending the day together, but to this day I still wonder if it wasn’t because she didn’t invite you, because she knew about me.

We’ve always been very independent from each other. We weren’t “in each others pockets” as the Irish would say … or at least that’s what they say here in Cork. I reveled in the freedom, even gloated how enlightened we were not to  be bound together with rules or ultimatums. But there was always something amiss. I found myself alone more often than not. Even in times of celebration, esp. in times of celebrating my achievements albeit small. … You never danced with me … Gosh, how I miss dancing … I justified it my head, said it over and over again until it rolled of my tongue as easily as the rain rolling off leaves. “Although I would like him to be more attentive, I can’t deny the independence and freedom that I have.” … Repeat … Repeat  … Repeat … *Sigh* …

We chased a dream together, so I thought, moved to Ireland and started a business, got married … got married …

Then, not more than a year or so later, there was mutiny, a disturbance in the force, and our business was caught in the middle. We were bullied, brutally bullied. Money was so, so tight largely because of your condo that you for some reason wouldn’t let go of. You did put it up on the market but did nothing to sell it. You had to barrow money from your parents to keep up the mortgage payments. There was not a light at the end of the tunnel, there was no tunnel, not to mention the growing black mold in the our rented hovel. It stands to reason that you would spiral down into a deep depression and despise everything that brought you to that point, including me. I’m not a psychologist or a psychotherapist.  Not a mind reader either, though that would be really cool! I started a new chant “I’ll make it better, I’ll fight the war, I’ll prove that the dream is still alive.” … Repeat … Repeat  … Repeat … *Sigh* …

I was winning! … I am winning … I WON! … While I was in the trenches though, you decided to leave, … not me … just leave.

You went behind my back and contacted your old boss to see if you can get your old job back. You told me that he approached you. You wanted to go back, but you told me that you were torn so I thought there was hope. That if things were better here then the choice would be obvious.  You wanted to leave but you couldn’t tell me that because then, you wouldn’t have anything to fall back on. You strung me along, weaving your safety net. I knew that you wanted to leave but unless you actually say it, I would only be acting on assumption. For 6 months you dragged it out. For 6 months I tried to prove to you that we can still make things work here. Knowing that my efforts were futile, knowing that you were stringing me along, knowing that you wanted to leave … Well, some days …

Well they offered you your old job back and only then did you say to me that you were definitely leaving. Finally we can talk and come up with a plan … finally … finally … We weren’t going to split up, you were going to go back and get your condo and financial dilemmas  sorted and I was going to hold down the fort and make “our” business grow. It was an easy adjustment to make. We had our independence and freedom. We had space and who says that we have to live together to love and support each other? … You were so happy, and it was such a long time since I last saw you happy. … You agreed that you would come back in 3 years, … when you had absolutely no intentions of doing so. Aaahhhhh, who can blame you? I left the back door wide open.

Now we live in 2 different countries on either side of the world, and I find myself alone more often than not. Even in times of celebration, esp. in times of celebrating my achievements albeit small. I find myself chanting that old line; “Although I would like him to be more attentive, I can’t deny the independence and freedom that I have.” … Repeat … Repeat  … Repeat … *Sigh* … But it doesn’t roll of the tongue so easily now. I would have thought with all the ways of staying connected that I would hear more from you. Not a constant stream on Skype watching each other sleep, but something more than and hour on a Sunday ‘coz that’s your “day for calling people”. … I can count how many times you said “I love you” without being prompted on one hand … “Although I would like him to be more attentive, I can’t deny the independence and freedom that I have.” … Repeat … Repeat  … Repeat … *Sigh* …

You still haven’t told your boss that your wife, your wife being me, is still living in Ireland. You told me that you would flip for my plane tix to your Brothers wedding, but you didn’t and I was left telling them that I couldn’t make it. You complained when I asked if I can get on your insurance. I visit you 3x a year, might as well get a Dr appointment in, but it would cost you too much money. You couldn’t even bring yourself to introduce me to your soccer teammates when I last visited. You choked when one of them asked if we were a couple. It was your Brother that did all the introductions, it was my Brother-In-Law that told everyone that I came all the way over from Ireland to watch the game.

I’ve accomplished a lot since you left. I won the war. I made a name for myself and “our” business. I have achieved more than I or anyone could have imagined.  So, in that hour of Skype’ing frenzy I tell you as precisely as I can so to avoid the “speed it up” hand gestures and “in a nutshell” demands. I tell you with all the excitement of a child winning their first race all that I accomplished, all that I’ve achieved in that week. … “Ah yeah, that’s nice.” … I post on that damn Facebook and if I’m lucky I just might get a “like” from you. It makes me sick to my stomach whenever I see a post of a husband praising his wife. … I’m so jealous … You can’t even publicly acknowledge that I’m your wife. I get sicker still when I get a message saying something like “Oh your husband must be really proud of you!” about something that I had achieved that past by you completely unnoticed. I’m completely mortified when I get messages from people questioning your support or even your existence. … “Although I would like him to be more attentive, I can’t deny the independence and freedom that I have.” … Repeat … Repeat  … Repeat … *Sigh* …

Why are you pulling this whole Jeremy McGuire act on me? Except there’s no happy ending with this. Why are blowing me off as if you want to pretend that I didn’t exist?

Yet Another New Year’s Proclamation

I’m a little late in the uptake of my New Year’s Resolutions this year… I have to say 2014 was … not that bad. I know it’s shocking. The current trend with many people is to bash 2014, or any year previous for that matter.  “Oh! What a horrible year! Good riddance! 2014 sucked! 2014 kicked my ass! I hate you 2014! Can’t wait for 2015! Bring it on 2015!“… At least that’s what I read on Facebook so it must be true right? 2014 was a BAD BAD year! … Thlpt! …

I have every reason to hate 2014. My Mother’s lymphoma came back and was on her death bed. She was scheduled for a stem cell transplant at the beginning of the year, but both her and my Brother decided to cut off all communications with me until just recently when my Mother calls me on Thanksgiving. She left a message. At least I know that she’s alive. … now … Still haven’t talked with her despite the phone calls. My husband, now my soon to be exe, reached new heights of being an ass. (See blog post “Let’s Talk”) So yeah, we’re getting a divorce. I hear through the grape vine that my Father who I have not heard from since May of 2013 regardless of the the monthly letters I posted, decided in Sept 2013 to move but neglected to tell me where. Still no word from him.

Crazy complications in business transfer, bill transfer, and residency. Money is always an issue and there were weeks where I was counting my potatoes. The stress pushed my diabetes over the edge where I now needed to be on medication. The Doctors found cancer cells floating around … “No, no you don’t have cancer yet.” YET!?!? What the GEEE WHIZ!? The community magazine that I founded and have worked on for over 2 years. A magazine that had a readership of over 1000 and growing came under fire twice. I managed to save it the first time but lost the 2nd time. The powers to be pulled the funding. It was soul breaking to know why. To know that the people that I touted as being strong, and resourceful, the people that always found a way when there was the will, got scared and desperate and cut off their noses to spite their faces. Their ears too apparently, right after they shot themselves in the foot. Then there were my “friends” that kept shaving off layers of my thick skin until it was paper thin. They jammed my detachment super power button so that when they used me as a punching bag, the punches could sink in deeper.

To top it all off, to find out that potential suitors are afraid of me because I can kick their asses. Go ahead and laugh. It certainly does sound funny! And it wasn’t just one mind you, it was a few of them. Honestly, I can kick everyone’s ass, but I don’t. That says a lot right there! Don’t you think? Still it cut me to the quick. People have been afraid of me all my life. They were afraid of that half breed jungle monkey Charlie in the trees gook from Viet-Nam. The product of a war they lost. They were so afraid that I wasn’t allowed inside, or to sit at the table or any table. I had to sit on the floor to eat my dinner. They were so afraid that they didn’t help when I was being ganged up on and beaten to a bloody pulp. They were so afraid that I had to put fishing hooks in my pony tail braid to keep the bullies at bay. They were so afraid that they couldn’t accept that I accomplished anything and made up excuses why I did. “You’ll sue them if they didn’t give you … You forced them … It was a quota … Who did you sleep with to get that? … “ I did hoped that we as the human race had progressed beyond that, but I guess not.

Now that’s one perspective, one aspect. Here’s another perspective, another aspect that I think I’m gonna go with… I gracefully got out of a destructive marriage and relationship. What luck to have a doctor that was doing research on diet and diabetes and allowed me to be part of the research as a test subject, where basically my medical expenses were free. I was put on a very specific diet catered to me and for the last 6 months have not had to go on insulin or any other medication. I lost 30lbs and now all my tight fitting clothes hang off me like gunny sacks. With all the money issues, I still have a roof over my head, and food on the table albeit a small amount of food, but I’m certainly not starving. Business transfer was successful, and I applied for citizenship, so hopefully in the next few weeks I’ll have my new passport. I got to enjoy one of the best Summers Ireland has had in a long time. Even got a great tan that I’m still sporting a faded version of. I’ve traveled. I went to Belfast and the Giant’s Causeway and it was magnificent! I was in a parade, a Halloween parade no less!  I’ve met some beautifully interesting people and had incredible conversations. Even met someone who would put all you so called “Whovians” to shame! And I discovered just how much I can take, and man oh man, Atlas step aside ‘coz not only can I hold up the sky but everything above and below it! But my skin got thin, my knees did shake, and I bled a lot…

So my New Year’s Resolution(s)? Well, among other things, I’m resolving to be meaner. No joke there. I’m going to allow myself to be mean and angry. I’m going to allow myself to put my foot down and make no excuses. And when I say “meaner” I’m not talking about causing any harm, but tougher with more intent. I’ve catered to the sensitivities of others far too much, stifled my anger and compromised myself as a result. Time for me to step up and join the rakes of the feisty middle aged battle axe. I will lose “friends” this year, but I’m not bothered.

A note to all those that I call friend and to all those that call me friend. I will be your escape goat, I will be your punching bag, a shoulder to cry on, and I’ll even be your door mat. We are friends and I will do all this with no complaint. We are friends so you know that I would never intend to do you any harm physically, mentally, or emotionally. If there is anything that I say or do that may have you think otherwise, DO NOT ASSUME! Please talk with me, ask questions. We are friends, so I know your qualifications in this or that. There’s no need to rub my nose in your accomplishments, smother me with your resume/CV, or jam your degree(s) down my throat. Since we are friends we will never beg for each others attention, approval, or acceptance. That is a given. If felt that I needed to, or have to, then I will simply walk away because at that point we are no longer friends. … Let say that won’t happen. Let resolve that won’t happen. Let’s resolve that won’t ever happen. We are friends so lets be and do as friends are.

And so it is. That’s my New Year’s Proclamation 2015. Fingers crossed I can live up to it!

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