Posts Tagged ‘ramblings’

Got to keep the loonies on the path. Not going to happen today, I don’t have it in me. This lunatic longs for the grass… Piss on the job, I could survive without it for it a bit. Made it through many lean times & we’re still here. Pack up the kids, board a plane exit it some place exotic and enjoy life. Dream, live, do something to enact change. Reality then slams in, it’s impossible. Selling the house, uprooting the kids, leaving family behind ~ I couldn’t do it, I’d be lost without Little Hitler when everything was said and done. Stay on the Path. Temporary solution call in sick, call in because the baby is sick, Christ, blame the cat ~ that fur ball that greeted me en route to the bathroom looked especially gruesome, Syd or Lola needed medical attention!… I can’t make it to the office today, This lunatic longs for the grass.. I knew though even the temporary solution only delayed things for 23 hours. The grass is both forbidden and frowned upon. For a moment I was in my own little version of The Wall ~ random scenes coming at me, some a viable option, some not. It was like an acid trip, minus the acid.

Brain Damage
(Roger Waters)

The lunatic is on the grass.
The lunatic is on the grass.
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs.
Got to keep the loonies on the path.

The lunatic is in the hall.
The lunatics are in my hall.
The paper holds their folded faces to the floor
And every day the paper boy brings more.

And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
And if there is no room upon the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too
I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon.

The lunatic is in my head.
The lunatic is in my head
You raise the blade, you make the change
You re-arrange me ’til I’m sane.
You lock the door
And throw away the key
There’s someone in my head but it’s not me.

And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear.
And if the band you’re in starts playing different tunes
I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon.

“I can’t think of anything to say except…
I think it’s marvelous! HaHaHa!”

I don’t understand how the grass got such a raw deal. There’s a whole world out there full of some completely amazing shit & I am stuck in the Asshole of American feeling like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. Conformity forced upon me as I walk the path begrudgingly. Each one of my Monday’s starts the same… how do I get out of doing what I have to do?!? How did this weekend pass with lightning speed?!? Luckily these thoughts run through my head minus Sonny & Cher, that’s a plus. Hearing I got you, Babe ~ at a time like this would cripple me. Was with one man my whole adult life, I never felt like singing about it until right at the end when I had a moment of complete patriotism and sang one powerful verse internally “Let Freedom Ring”. It was the best I have ever sounded if I do say so myself. Roger Waters, David Gilmour had nothing on me.

What I don’t understand and what I am trying to figure out and have been for quite some time… why are some able to walk the path not tempted by the grass? And why I am one of the one’s who needs the grass and constantly has to fight against it to stay on the path? I look back on my life and think yes, as a teenager I was a nightmare, but in the grand scheme of things it could have been worse… certainly those few years didn’t seal my fate. It seems like some folks do more living than I do and to add insult to injury they have the appearance of complete contentment on the path ~ the grass never temps them, maybe it is just a facade, but how is it folks live life happily and never want to leave the path?

Been at “life” now almost 40 years, being kept on the path some will say signifies mental stability. When your inner lunatic hits the grass and doesn’t know enough to return to the path you’ve had a breakdown. I disagree. I think the grass is the fun stuff ~ the daisy chains and laughs. I feel very strongly the path is twofold; the daily things forced upon us that we have to do to survive as well as conditioning to accept these routines as actually living. I just can’t wrap my head around why there isn’t more time for the grass and why the path takes such stringent priority. I think if more credence was given to the importance of the grass, more people would “live”. And for the life of me I do not understand how you can have two unique people, one comes into the world stays on the path the grass doesn’t even entice them ~ the other struggles their whole life to stay on path and ignore the grass. It makes me wonder who has actually lived??? If you have never experienced the grass can you say you have?

It’s Monday and I am both fortunate and unfortunate enough to be on the Path. Daisy chains and laughs would be so very cool. But most can’t have those without prior dedication to the path. Enjoying the grass comes at a tremendous cost. As I drink my 3rd cup of coffee… my inner lunatic has conformed and I will stay on the path all day, all week and most likely for the next 20 some odd years. I’ll walk the path, I’ll go through the motions. Physically I am a slave to the path, mentally though I’ll never walk it. I have children who count on me to do this. I will also always be someone who longs for the grass, as I will never fully believe a person lives until their feet have felt it. I could be very wrong about this, but to truly live I think a person has to experience life off the path. I hope if nothing else as my children have watched me walk the path and they have learned the true importance in the daisy chains and laughs & it’s ok to step off the path upon occasion, as I think it’s vital. Balance… when a person masters that there is no inner lunatic to struggle with. Balance brings inner peace. I wish them balance.

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When Life just Blows…Fukitol

My eyes opened pre 5:00 am this morning. It’s Sunday so that obviously signifies something major. Major it is. You know how when something sneaks up on you that you have to attend but you would prefer to chew your right arm off with the teeth of the latest road kill to get out of it?? The thoughts of the event forced my eyes open in the 4:00 hour. And no the blog never came to mind. I now have confirmation that certain events do not have the ability to be manipulated by thinking of the blog. Unfortunately I have found myself in the middle of just such an occasion.

Today is my niece’s 4th Birthday Party. Now seeing this in print I think to myself, “Your (my) Mother was correct, you are the biggest bitch to walk the planet”. Ever since “My Keith Richard Years” as they are commonly referred to my Mother has called me as W.B. ~ Wonder Bitch. At the time in the middle of surviving my teens the title was probably fitting. Looking back, I could just cringe at times when certain memories pop into my head. I wasn’t sexually promiscuous, but I enjoyed a good buzz. It’s no picnic dealing with a teenager on drugs that you have no control over. I was said teenager. Never arrested, but I know I put her and the rest of the family through hell. There we close calls, one incident comes to mind where a friend of mine had a warrant out for his arrest and living down a dead end road when we turned to pull into my house the police officer pulled in behind us. I pulled into the drive the officer approached the car, my friend scared actually punched the officer and ran and officer got his shit together and pulled out his firearm, I could not watch my friend be shot and the officer I now know had no intension of doing so. I did feel the need to step between the officer with his firearm drawn and my friend. Unfortunate timing that my Mother decided at that exact moment to come out onto the back deck to see who had pulled in to visit. Please keep in mind I was 16 at the time, my friend 18 or 19 and the warrant for his arrest was for a court hearing he missed for a DUI. Him striking the officer out of fear is what brought the firearm out. He was afraid to go to jail and when it was all said and done, he would have been in minimal trouble for missing his court date, but striking the officer fried his ass, as it should have, Anyways, I did earn the title she bestowed on me. That being said once I successfully got my shit together, I do think the title of W.B. should have been tucked away, but it’s stuck with me, just like a second skin.

I believe at this point it’s tossed out there much too casually. She at times will still refer to me as W.B. and when she does, I have a flashback to the 80’s. I don’t believe she does though. It was such a traumatic time, she has most likely and hopefully blocked most of it. I think to her W.B. has become a generic tag she throws out there when she feels I am taking a stance on something. I do this quite often I guess. I have never been one to hold back or not say exactly what I feel. I like people to do the same with me so I set the example. A lot of people are under the assumption if you speak your mind you have no tact, this is something I disagree with strongly. I do have tact. If a person is so fragile they can’t handle hearing what I have to say I have always been of the mind set they need to “pony up” for lack of a better term. I am much too shook up about the trauma the day holds to find the terms I am looking for in some instances, my apologies.

Got a little sidetracked, this is after all about the Birthday Party. Now I love my niece. She is the daughter of my brother (I have two) and I love her to bits. But I have no doubt that she is going to make me look like a Delicate Wallflower by the time her life unfolds. Two days ago she turned 4, and she has already earned the private moniker Little Hitler. Now Little Hitler is tossed around quite frequently behind behind the backs of my brother and his wife. Nobody in the family is out of the closet with addressing the obvious issues that exist and there are several. They all can be tracked right back to everyone’s inability to tell this child No. She has never heard this word from anyone except me. I blame this on her Mom and Dad reading all the books, because they were by the bookers and they conveniently skipped the chapters that had the word No in them. There really is no sense in me trying to convey just how Little Hitlerlike she is, it’s impossible. I also don’t believe there is enough space left on the www to fully illustrate the past 3 years and 2 days. I don’t even have the ability to properly highlight/ outline with any brevity. Our family had a brief moment of hope that change was imminent with the announcement they were expecting their second child. They even went out on a limb and said they felt the second time would be better, as they knew what they were doing and didn’t feel they needed to rely on the books. This statement itself is a who ‘nother entry. He has been with us for almost 2 years ~ we love him. Unfortunately, shattered dreams as far as hope for a change in Little Hitler.

Now our family is a bit unconventional. When we gather, anything can happen and it usually does. We do great if we gather for a short period of time and those short periods of time do not happen on a regular basis. If we gather A. Too Frequently or B. For an Extended Period of Time you can bet your sweet bippy all kinds of hell can and probably will break loose at any moment. We all love each other, but we all have very strong personalities and there isn’t one of us who could be described as bashful. We have had some amazing gatherings; holidays, birthdays, Sunday Dinners. It doesn’t matter what the event the opportunity for a blowup always looms in the background. It’s presence is able to be felt. Maybe Little Hilter just came into the family fully armed for survival. I don’t know I haven’t properly assessed it just yet.

Our family parties have always (pre Little Hitler) had the same structure. The Sunday nearest the birthday would be the party day. The party was always scheduled at Grandma’s. She lives on 100 acreas, has a beautiful home, swimming pool and all the toys; quads, dune buggies, eagle’s nests, trampolines, the works. If it’s fun, it’s found it’s way to my Grandparent’s house. Our family is also small. Mom is an only child. My Dad has a brother and a sister. His sister passed away in her 20’s, his brother never married. It’s always been just a small party regardless whose birthday it was. Little Hilter arrives and we now have to have these Grand Events, Catered Events with a shitload of people most of them complete whackjobs. If someone has said hello to L.H. they get invited to this party. This rubs me completely the wrong direction. A child’s birthday party should be about the child, a celebration of their arrival into the family, enjoying the time with those that love them. It’s not about the gifts, or the quality of fillet selected to be grilled. Each year as we have progressed this event gets bigger and bigger and has become it’s own: Can You Top This. They put this party together inviting everyone who has blinked in their direction. There will be people there today who have come from States not even close to ours to take part in this celebration. There will be enough food to feed a third world country. Everyone is so fake and so full of themselves it makes me violently ill when I am parking the car prior to joining this party. I am not a person who determines someone’s worth by what they have. I should also interject just so there is no confusion… I don’t take this stance because I am jealous of what these blow hards have acquired in life & I can hold my own with the best of them. I am a single parent who worked her ass off to buy our first home, by myself. I drive a nice vehicle, nothing splashy but an Envoy, that I purchased on my own & my home is filled with all the goodies that make living comfortable. My bills are paid, money is being tucked into my 401K ~ we are trucking right along quite nicely. I left my job at the Post Office for the one I have now, that I have had for 10 years. This was solid move that allowed us to live a comfortable lifestyle. So I am not looking at these people secretly jealous, intimidated by their jewels and worldly possessions. I am wondering why the jewels are plastered from head to toe , why everyone feels the need to name drop and go into the most intense can you top this mode I have ever seen. I guess they feel obligated as the tone of the party right out of the shoot is Can you Top This. That’s just how it’s put together and what is immediately picked up as a person and their family & their neighbors (most likely they have been sucked into this as well, they might have waved to L.H. once from their yard. That’s a mandatory invite). This is after all L.H.’s party. Its’ supposed to be about celebrating her and enjoying the day with her, making sure her and all the little ones have a great time playing. It’s supposed to be something fun and enjoyable. And it’s anything but. From the fake hellos as a person arrives, to the sterile critique of the meal to the opening of the gifts (this portion takes no less than one hour. I am guessing this year it will be closer to two).

I would honestly prefer to wrap my lips around the exhaust of the Envoy opposed to attending this gathering of Stepfordlike Whackjobs. Everyone dressed to the 9’s including the children. People actually cringe when their child runs of to play with the other little ones there. “Oh the horror”, their child wants to play with other children, in the sandbox and they have just had their hair professionally done for the party and are wearing a $70 outfit. Please keep in mind these children are preschoolers. They are instantly attracted to the nearest mud puddle, sandbox or anthill they can find. At any given moment you can look at the children and see one with their finger in their nose up to their elbow. These people want you to believe they are the be it all, end it all of the party. Everyone wants to be looked at as the family who is trying to be topped, yet these fake idiots arrive to a child’s party, and come unglued when the kids want to play or get a little dirt on themselves.

This is a repugnant event. These isn’t another word to describe it & I have to gather myself and my kiddos together and attend. No wonder I was up at 4:00 am. This has been looming over my head ever since I received the formal invitation one month ago. The invitation itself had a typo and that in itself said everything people who attend this farce hide from.

It’s a damn shame. My youngest who is soon to be 3 is really looking forward to the party. She can’t wait to go and play, she loves a cake and candles. She will play her heart out and have a blast. Some of the kids will be permitted to play as well. So she should have a decent time, if I can keep her away from seeing the kids who are forced to stick close to their parents and not get dirty. These children go through several phases as the party progresses. Sneaking off to play but getting pulled back by their harness, yes some children who attend this are harnessed liked a Clydesdale, some just stay by their parents because the fear of God has been forced upon them before they exited their vehicle. The next stage is tears they are crying to play, begging pleading and have resorted to tears. This is especially painful to watch and the time I really have to bite my tongue and tend to my own. Then they hit rebellion where they do everything they can obnoxiously so their parents turn them loose. Some have mastered this and eventually get their own way, others unfortunately remain a party prisoner.

Needless to say all of the above, and the meal (who can eat in the middle of this?? it does require an iron stomach) all lead up to the time that probably repulses me the most. It would be hard to pick one thing that made me the craziest about this whole fiasco. My answer is subject to change at any point throughout, as I detest it from start to finish. The gift opening is especially distasteful though. L.H. and her mother go center stage, children then take their position and become the inner circle. Even the party prisoners are permitted to get to the inner circle. The adults then assume their position. Video Camera on it’s time to open the gifts. It begins with opening the card, the card is read completely and admired. The gift that came with it is opened, extracted from it’s package, played with for a few minutes and set aside. The giver then opens themselves up for a hug from L.H. Now L.H. doesn’t like anyone but her mother. She doesn’t take kindly to being forced to hug someone, her mother likes to ignore this fact and make it appear like she is ill and cranky and this is a rare behavior ~ her freaking out and rebelling against something she doesn’t want to do or doesn’t like. Now keep in mind if the family is driving down the road and L.H. is not happy with everyone and their seats in the vehicle the vehicle is pulled over immediately and people sit where she tells them to. She will even force a driver change. She will force them to take two vehicles if she doesn’t want to drive somewhere with her brother. That being said you can imagine how she comes unglued when she is asked to hug someone she doesn’t want to. Additionally there are probably anywhere between 20-50 kids sitting in the inner circle salivating over the toys that are making their debut in front of them. These kids want to see the toys, they want to touch them and play with them. These kids might as well take a flying leap as there is no way in hell any of them are getting to touch these toys. L.H. has been known to demand the toys can’t even be looked at and at this point those toys go to seclusion, under a table cloth. If L.H. doesn’t want someone looking at her new toy, they will not be permitted to look, plain and simple. Everyone’s gift is validated by its status post opening. If it is thrown into the pile ~ they know they didn’t hit the mark. If it is put into seclusion they can allow their chest to puff a bit more knowing they picked something to be hidden from the masses. Everyone strives to pick a toy that will be secluded. The embarrassment they absorb when the gift is chucked into the pile hits them very hard. Most have mastered striking up conversation with the person next to them, or excusing themselves to find a restroom when they see their gift in line to be opened, especially if they know there is no real chance for it to be secluded. Everyone tries to wrap their gift so their can be no mistaking when theirs is in the lineup.

Now I could continue to go on. It is honestly too grueling to do so, as the event is only hours away. My eyes popped open at 4:00 am because my body was telling me something. It was saying go immediately to the liquor cabinet and say good morning to Jack Daniels ~ unfortunately I have to drive so that isn’t an option.

I’m not sure what anyone has on their plate today, I am pretty sure that the majority will not have to deal with something so agonizing. So I feel in a sense I am taking one for the team. The kids have already asked this morning if I am in a mood. Throwing it in my face that things will get better once we get to the party. They are 16 and almost 19 need I say more. They are concerned if I will be ok today. Calling for a family hug and secretly praying this will be the party I totally lose it at and free us from having to go to any more. They know we will always be invited. They just hope eventually I blow to such a degree I am too embarrassed to attend a subsequent event (which that would never happen). As I explained me blowing would only ensure our prompt arrival at the next scheduled party. Most likely I would make sure we were first to arrive as opposed to our current status of blaming our late arrival on the baby napping. Getting there, having to spend the least amount of time possible, having the phone ring and excusing ourselves for our early departure as work has called and I have something that requires immediate attention. I am fortunate to be on call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. This does have its advantage.

So my day is scheduled. I would prefer Open Heart without the luxury of anesthesia, it didn’t go that way today. My Lucid Karma dictates that I must attend this party. Not sure who penned the phrase Karma is a bitch but they nailed it.

I should close with a sincere statement. Happy Birthday Little Hitler, I do love you with every bit of my heart. Because of you I am an Aunt and I do enjoy that and try to put everything aside and make sure we have fun, which we do. She acts like an angel when it’s her and I because she knows I don’t take any shit & she respects that. So I will wish you the Happiest of Birthdays and hope that I am able to get through this without coming unglued. I haven’t yet and this will be the 4th. I do know the eruption is building inside and I do hope I am able to keep it controlled as we face each year. I would have to think as she ages people will feel less obligated to attend ~ I sure as fuck hope so.

Wish me luck and be thankful you have never crossed paths with Little Hitler & if you have, I’ll see you there.

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