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?

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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!

Off The Cell – December 2014

Dec7

 

My Back Garden, Cork City, Ireland, December 2014

 

 

Dec1

Mardyke, Cork City, Ireland, December 2014

 

Dec2

Upper Pouladuff Road, Cork City

 

Dec3

On The Footpath From The Atlantic Pond To Rochestown

Cork City, Ireland, December 2014

 

Dec4

On The Footpath From The Atlantic Pond To Rochestown

Cork City, Ireland, December 2014

 

Dec5

On The Footpath From The Atlantic Pond To Rochestown

Cork City, Ireland, December 2014

 

Dec6

Grand Parade, Cork City Centre, Ireland, December 2014

Off The Cell – November 2014

Tory Top Park, Cork City November 2014

 

Tory Top Park, Ballyphenane, Cork City, Ireland November 2014

 

 

 

 

1 November 2014

Tory Top Park, Ballypehane, Cork City, Ireland November 2014

 

2Nov2014

Tory Top Park, Ballyphehane, Cork City, Ireland November 2014

 

Cork Ireland Wei Qi (GO) Tournament 16 Nov 2014

Cork Go (Wei Qi) Tournament, Cork City, Ireland November 2015

 

MardykeNov2014 From The Mardyke Sports Arena, Cork City, Ireland November 2014

 

 

 

 

 

Off The Cell – One September In October 2014

Behind Bemish, Cork City, Ireland, September 2014

Behind Bemish, Cork City, Ireland September 2014

 

Ballinlough, Cork City, Ireland October 2014

Ballinlough, Cork City, Ireland October 2014

 

October 2014

Tory Top Par, Cork City, Ireland October 2014

 

Pouladuff Road, Cork City, Ireland October 2014

Upper Pouladuff Road, Cork City, Ireland October 2014

 

Reendowny, Cork City, Ireland October 2014

Reendowny, Cork City, Ireland October 2014

Off The Cell – August 2014

Fermoy, Ireland, August 2014

Fermoy, Ireland August 2014

 

Crothamore Park, Cork City, Ireland, August 2014

Upper Pouladuff Road, Cork City, Ireland August 2014

 

Lauire, Cork City, Ireland, August 2014

My Back Garden August 2014

 

Roselawn, Cork City, Ireland August 2014

Roselawn, Cork City, Ireland August 2014

 

That Bridge, Cork City, Ireland August 2014

City Centre, Cork City, Ireland August 2014

Off The Cell – July 2014

By The Lee River, Fitzgeralds Park, Cork City, Ireland July 2014

On the bank of the River Lee, Fitzgerald’s Park, Cork City, Ireland

July 2014

 

Mardyke, Cork City, Ireland, July 2014

Patio of the Mardyke Sports Areana, Cork City, Ireland

July 2014

 

Only 2, Cork City, Ireland, July 2014

Near The Lough, Cork City, Irleand,

July 2014

We All Live In A Sinking Submarine

Maxtrova

It’s not a reoccurring  dream, but it’s one that sticks in my head especially now that I’ve been ambushed and the rug pulled out from under me…

I’m sitting in the window of my apartment on the 33rd floor. The world is flooded and the water has been rising slowly for several years. I can see that the water is up to the 24th floor. I think to myself that I only have a few years left before I will drown like everyone else below me. I am safe for the moment, warm, and dry. I’m so exhausted though. I just barely made it out of a sinking submarine. Myself and several others went below to find a way to stop the flood. But our route took us too close to a building and it tore open the sub. I managed to maneuver it to the roof top of another building where everyone was able to swim to safety.

Now I sit on the window exhausted looking out on the water that is ever rising. I get a phone call on an old land line phone. “We need you to go down again. You’re the only one who can pilot the ship.” I am safe, warm and dry and I want to say no. They tell me that they’re sending school children down. I am safe, warm and dry and now I can’t say no. I’m the only one who can pilot the ship and they’re sending children down. I have to go. I have to.

I’m on the submarine and the children are playing. I’m taking them down so that we can find a way to stop the flood. They call down and say that I have to take the same rout as before. “It’s too dangerous! There’s a safer way!” I beg them. But they don’t hear me. They tell me that I have to take that rout or they will launch a missile and blow up the ship. I tell myself that I can do this, I’ve done the rout and know the dangers. I steer the ship. They launch they’re missile anyway. I maneuver the ship and just miss the missile. The blast of the missile hitting the building near us throws us into another building. We’re stuck. Water starts draining into the cabin and the children are huddled together scared and looking to me to say what to do next. I close my eyes and think that I could have been safe, warm and dry …

Darlagh Continuously Sings

Check this blog out! They’re breaking the WordPress Cookie Cutter and having a write off!

Inglorious Jargon

Perla Zorn and Bruscar are writing each other off!

They’re taking turns writing bits to a story. They don’t know what the other is going to write or where they are going to take the story until their bit goes live on WordPress! But they ran into a problem, in that the reader/follower has to scroll down to the bottom and do a Texas 2 Step of 2 steps upward one step down, to read the story in order. Unless, of course, you’ve been following from the beginning.

To work around the cookie cutter that is WordPress, Perla Zorn and Bruscar figured that they would also post their “write offs” here as the one continuous story that it was intended to be.  So, if you are new to this story,  you can read it from start to … now without leap frogging through the posts. They will still post as…

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Off The Cell – June 2014

Babies, My Back Garden, May 2014

BABIES! My Back Garden,  June 2014

Fitzgeralds Park, Cork City, Ireland June 2014

Fitzgerald Park, Cork City, Ireland,  June 2014

My Back Garden Again, June 2014

My Back Garden, June 2014

My Back Garden, June 2014

My Back Garden, June 2014

Strawberry, My Back Garden, June 2014

My Back Garden, June 2014

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