Because bad taste is better than no taste at all.....

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

#321: 8/26/2015

Got tired of trying to come up with witty titles, so with this one we'll go with the date, instead.

When I was younger, a cousin gave me what amounted to a romance novel. I read it a couple of times, and then it got lost in the shuffle.

It was, so to speak, "not my thing."

Even at 16 I realized that love and relationships never worked that way, where the main cool dude sweeps the girl off on his high white horse and they rode off in the sunset. It just doesn't work. This cynicism has followed me through to being an adult, and it has kept me from being too disappointed.
My relationships have always been with the screw-ups, the imperfect. The ones few looked twice at. Mainly because I know I am not perfect myself, and to look for perfection in others would be, at best, impossible, and at worst, hypocritical on my part.

Some would claim I have settled for less than I should have. I do not regret a thing.

Lately, my wanderings into the world of online "pen pals" have brought me some interesting yes's.... and no's....People who insist I am pretty and look halfway decent themselves.... of course, this being the internet, I take it with a grain of salt, so to speak, and, as expected, they soon drift away and stop writing.

Or else they get stupid, and so I stop writing them.

I have been pulling peoples' strings... I am only waiting on the pull, myself, to show where the life line really is. Then it will be a matter of following it, to see where it goes.

It's coming up on a month now, since my self-imposed exile to the other end of the house. Coworkers ask me constantly why I am the one to move, if it's a point I'm trying to make, why not banish Dent there? But Dent can't sleep very well on the couch, and as it is hard enough getting his ass out of bed for work already (Yes, I still have to literally run his ass out of bed. Babysitting still.), no sense making it harder than it has to be. I jokingly refer to the arrangement as "roomies", but it is looking more and more that way. Oh, I still do my things--I wash dishes and do the laundry...and he still does his things--he mows the lawn, and opens things that are too tight, all the manly stuff. But I have been cooling off towards him, and I think he knows this.

No, I haven't stopped loving Dent. You don't just stop loving someone. It is a long, slow, very painful process. There are days I still miss the ex husband (this feeling quickly ebbs, however, when I remember what an arrogent ass he can be) All I can do at present is try to be as encouraging as I can be, in the time we may have left together. The hope is that he can finally finish something he started, and see for himself he doesn't need me around to be a real live grown up
One would hope so, anyway. It's the second week of his college classes, and after a couple of rough days (having to hurredly track down things he needed to participate  in said classes because they were too stupid to tell him beforehand he needed them), it seems to be working. I'm keeping my mental fingers crossed on this one.

In other news, I have had to replace my old laptop. A couple of weeks ago I got the dreaded "blue scren o'death". The laptop still works, but I don't trust it to hold any valuable information. So after searching a bit, we found a small "notebook" computer that works almost as well. It's a lot lighter and I don't have to worry about the battery dying in 15 minutes. It has windows 8 on it, but I am not finding it as difficult to work with as it was on the Tablet Dent had at one point, either the progam is different for laptop/notebook computers or I am just getting used to it. I uninstalled a few things I didn't need and re-downloaded a couple of things. The keyboard is a lot smaller though, and I find myself misspelling things I wasn't before. Thank goodness for Spell check.

Finally, it's come down to the stuff I was dreading all along when I moved into the backwoods. Someone in the area thinks it's worthwile cruising down the gravel driveway with their lights off, scoping out places to break in. Several places have been hit already, although I don't know anything has really been stolen, just more like messed up. In a way, I had expected this sooner. You can't see the back door (which is what we use) from the driveway, and the front door has a screen of pine trees along the road so you can't really see it either. We're at the very end of the road, far back from any casual observers. Of course, that is also a disadvantage to them--because people have no business back there that time of can't pretend to know someone when there's only us, and we don't know who the hell you are. Perhaps it's good that we're sleeping at opposite ends of the trailer.... if someone breaks the front window I'll know it immediately.

Stay tuned.

Thursday, August 13, 2015

#320: hearts of stone

I'm one of those lucky people with a creek behind the house, that I can walk along and even wade in from time to time. The rocks are different than what you'd expect; there are very few smooth stones like you see in those "nature" stores, with the words carved in them. Most are rough, and come in different shapes. A lot of the rock is shale or slate, that breaks off into big flat pieces. I've made a habit of bringing back a piece or two every time I walk down there, to put around my rose bush. I'm hoping to snuff out the weeds that keep taking over the area, as well as give the lizards some place new to sun themselves.

"gonna harden my heart.....
Gonna swallow my tears......."
I also find a lot of shapes. The other afternoon I found a small flat one that was an almost perfect triangle. Lately I have been noticing the ones that are almost heart shaped.

Mostly though, I look for the clear ones, or nearly so. The quartz that you can sit in a window and the light shines through it. They're mostly small ones I find, and not perfect looking like the sort you can buy. But they're mine; I've found them myself.

Seems like the further I go, the harder my feelings become. It's like someone took out my heart, and replaced it with a stone. One that's been washed of all feeling, gritty and hard.

This will be the beginning of week four of my self-imposed "separation". I keep getting asked "you still on the couch?" Well, yes, and likely to be for a while. It's working all right for the moment. Quit asking; it's irritating.

It doesn't help that I suspect my laptop computer is dying. I've had the thing almost as long as Dent has been living with me; which is a good long time in the life of a laptop. I've made sure to save what I couldn't replace. Just in case it, to quote my neighbour, "Shits its cookies".

Dent starts classes next week. He's managed to snag the book he needed, I guess this weekend we'll be looking for school supplies.... Now, if his boss at work will actually *work* with him so that he can get to his classes on time, this might actually work out OK, finally.

Stay tuned.

Monday, August 10, 2015

#319: Finders keepers

serendipity /ser'en dip i te/ n.
an apitude for making diserable discoveries by accident

--The Random House Dictionary (1989)

So the other night we went to the Big Blue store, to get some food stuff for the week. Up at the front of the store there's these giant bins, holding various cheaply priced DVD's. Dent usually picks through them, looking for something to watch. I could almost leave the man there and come back an hour later and he'd be still picking through them.

I glance down, and notice one box, with its red-white-and-blue packaging. I pick it up. It's some old Captain America thing that was on TV in the late 1970's or early 1980's. 

"I've been looking for that for months!" exclaims Dent. "I couldn't find it anywhere online..."

And I find it in 30 seconds, at Walmart. In a discount bin. 

Ladies and gentleman, I am apparently a "finder". 

It's strange, because most days I barely notice what is in front of my face......

Now, if I could just "find" $1,000,000 or so, my life would be complete. 

Sunday, August 2, 2015

#318: Pen Pals

I stare at the computer screen, watching the cursor blink. I'm waiting on a reply. This is slow going, as the person at the other end of the conversation is obviously doing more than just talking to me. I curb my impatience and resist the urge to ask what else is he doing? Or more like, who else is he talking to? I stifle these thoughts, it isn't like we're together or anything. 

Another message pops up. This one is from someone in a different country than the first one. Sorry i disappeared, it says. We had a bad storm and the power went out. But i found something very interesting to do in the dark while i thought of you...... 

What am I doing? My mind constantly questions itself when I am on this website. 

Some of the conversations are amusing. Some I pass over altogether.  

My mind wanders now, to all the things I need to do tomorrow: Put some money on the phone, get groceries. Drop off more things at the thrift store. This last thing gives me a twinge; there are things that are going that I never thought I would give up, things I would never just give over to random strangers. But I do not need them any more, and maybe others can find joy in them. Nothing very valuable, mind you, I save the valuable things for those I care for, for those I know will take care of them. I'm only losing things with memories attached to them, memories I'd just as soon purge from my life. 

Yesterday I dropped off some of Meg's baby things with a coworker, who is expecting her first very soon. Mostly blankets, because you can never have too many of those. I managed to thin out some things considerably, to the point where most of her stuff fits in a cardboard box, one that once held printer paper. Rather than a ginormous plastic box which can now be used to hold other things, mainly, those stuffed animals I haven't sorted through yet. 

This week marks the beginning of the third that I have slept in the spare bedroom. I'd like to say that I'm lonely, or that I miss sleeping in the other room. However, I cannot truthfully say either of these things. To be actually able to SLEEP, without being woken up at 3 am by Dent's snoring, or the bed moving as he "twitches" in his sleep. I see now how some couples sleep in different rooms and it's OK. I used to wonder this, how it worked, how people fared when they were a couple, but no longer shared a bed. Now I know. It's not as bad as you'd think.

I think about the person in the first conversation, who ought to be getting ready for bed right about now.... A bit on the tall side, resembling a bit like Rick Steves, just slightly pudgier in the face. He likes to garden, and sent me photographs of some of the plants he's growing in his yard. I click on the message box. You must be getting ready for bed? I send. It's been more than 30 minutes since he'd replied to anything. Maybe he's already asleep? I think.

I look out the window. I really ought to be taking care of my tomatoes. They want cutting back. Tomorrow, I tell myself. I have been terribly lax on the outdoor things. Mostly because it's been a million degrees in typical summer fashion, and the mosquitoes have gotten brave enough to carry you away even through the mosquito repellent you coat yourself with. 

Tomorrow, I tell myself again. Or Thursday, my next day off from work. 

I'm getting good at this procrastinating thing. 

I click on the second conversation, the one about doing things in the dark. I type a series of dots (..........), because I don't really know what to say to this. It's been about 10 minutes since I got any sort of reply from this one. Maybe I should sign off, he obviously isn't interested I'm thinking. Or maybe another storm? No, it still shows he is online. 

................And always, always the questions in my mind. Are these people serious? Or are they just being nice? It is difficult to tell with a person in real life, damn near impossible on the internet. I've always had this problem with people, you see. People are nice...and.. 

Do I believe it? Mostly. 

Understand it? Not so much.

I click back on the first conversation. Well, if I don't talk to you before you go to sleep, hope you had pleasant dreams and a good day at work tomorrow   I type. 

Hopefully my dreams will be sweet, but I never remember mine. 

Monday, July 27, 2015

#317: It's the small things

There are days when I feel very small in this big world of ours. Insignificant. Like I don't matter a whole lot. Not a new feeling, I have to admit. And it's difficult when no one really sees you for who you are, or they think they know you and they really don't.  But then I find things that really are small, and they don't worry about getting lost, they just do the best they can with what they've got. I suppose I should do the same. Just hang out in the sun and make the best of things.  

It helps to be sure to look around you, if you want to see the things that other people miss seeing. Little tiny things that most overlook. You'd be surprised at what may be lurking in the basil. A couple of years ago I found a rather large, bright green spider here. She was eating a bumblebee, so I left her alone. I nicknamed her "Basil" and left her a tall stalk for her to lay her eggs on. I haven't seen any more of that kind of spider in there. But I did find one of these lurking.  

 We apparently have a lot of these around here. I don't mind too much. This may be the same one, just older. I don't really know the life cycle of these things, only that they eat harmful bugs, and they're really neat. 

I'm a little strange in that I'm not very "girly". That is, insects don't bother me a whole lot. If it's a roach, certainly, it meets the bottom of my shoe real quick. But I catch the spiders that get "lost" in the house, as well as the stink bugs that somehow find their way in. 

Of course, we have more than just bugs here. We have the things that EAT the bugs as well. This little guy usually hides in the trees, and you hear him and all his little friends at night. They put up quite a racket calling for Mrs. Frog. I actually found this one several days later crawling up the side of the trailer. I had to catch him and throw him off into the woods, so the owls wouldn't eat him. 

This, believe it or not, is a snail. They live all in the creek here. I'm guessing the crayfish and raccoons snack on them for dinner. Never was a big fan of the thought of escargot, but whatever trips your trigger.

So don't forget to look down, you never know what little friends you could be making.... ;)