Nasty Boys

I do not have much today - but I have an office moment that damn near made me snort today.
My colleague, Tom, turned around and said "Why would Michael Jackson go from a black man and become a white woman?" Random! I am still giggling.

Intuition and Skid Row

There are two books I read everyday because they are date affiliated. One of them being "More Language of Letting Go - 366 New Daily Meditations" by Melody Beattie. July's theme is Learn To Say How It Feels. The meditation for July 28th is Turn the Switch On focusing on intuition. This is a timely subject as I am in my head right now about making good decisions. When was the last time I made a good decision rather than just a decision and can I trust myself to make a good decision? So I am caught up in the fact that there is something wrong with me and the way I react, think, walk through life unconscious, etc. Here is the insightful little tid bit thrust at me on July 28th:

Many of us have turned off our intuition switch, our sense of knowing the truth. We may have turned it off when we were children, because our parents lied to us. Or we may have turned the switch off later on in life to be in relationship to people who were lying to themselves and us. Our inner voice, our sense of knowing the truth, had to be turned off in order for us to remain in the situation.

My answer is Yes & Yes and there are many examples of how I lost it, so now how do I find it. The exercise from my book requires me to meditate and see myself in a closet turning my intuition switch on. Um, no. Let's think about a better way to garner the same results. As for now, I do not have an answer, but I am looking for one.

Embarrassingly enough - when I work around the house I listen to - wait for it - Arena Rock! So I heard the song "I remember you" by Skid Row. So the long hair was a bit much, the make-up a tad frightening, and we will not even go to the place that allows grown men to maneuver their package into spandex. But I must say, these hair band guys were romantic and dramatic and they play right into the fantasy land that at times I live in. Here are the lyrics:

Woke up to the sound of pouring rain
The wind would whisper and Id think of you
And all the tears you cried, that called my name
And when you needed me I came through
I paint a picture of the days gone by
When love went blind and you would make me see
Id stare a lifetime into your eyes
So that I knew you were there for me
Time after time you were there for me

Chorus: Remember yesterday - walking hand in hand
Love letters in the sand - I remember you
Through the sleepless nights and every endless day
Id wanna hear you say - I remember you

We spend the summer with the top rolled down
Wished ever after would be like this
You said I love you babe, without a sound
I said Id give my life for just one kiss
Id live for your smile and die for your kiss

We've had our share of hard times
But that's the price we paid
And through it all we kept the promise that we made
I swear you'll never be lonely
Woke up to the sound of pouring rain
Washed away a dream of you
But nothing else could ever take you away cause you'll always be my dream come true
Oh my darling, I love you

And I cannot get my mind off of the person I associate this song (and a couple more) with. Does anyone else have this problem? Or am I on my own Planet Crazy?

A Letter To My Little

I am going to a baby shower tonight for one of the executives in our office. It is really the first baby shower I have been to since I had my "Little". She is also having a girl and it has brought out a sentimentality that rivals any sentimentality that I have had about my daughter thus far.

I went to Babies R Us and realized how fast she became 3 years old - an No, it was not within three year, it just could not have been. Now I am looking at the baby shower card that I am about to sign and it reads:

Having a daughter means loving more than you knew you could love.

It means giving more than you knew you could give.

It means receiving so much more in return.

Having a daughter means knowing that whatever else you did or didn't do,

you gave the world something beautiful.

There are so many things I want to say to my daughter, though she will not understand for years to come. She is the best gift I have ever received. She is my greatest accomplishment.

She is the best of me and non of the worse of me. My letter to her would look like this:

Dear Baby Girl,

The moment I laid my eyes on you the world stopped for a matter of seconds. Once I brought you home time sped up and got away from me. Before I knew it you were rolling, crawling, walking, running. Together we grow and I am learning all the things my parents never taught me, including patience and tolerance, laughter and silliness, and most of all, unconditional love. Darling, please be patient with me as I try to be the most genuine mother to you and though I cannot be your friend until I have done my job as your parent, know that I am looking forward to the evolution of our relationship. You are my brightest sunshine and most brilliant rainbow. You inspire me, educate me, and make me reach deep within myself for success. I am proud of you everyday and hope that together we grow into strong, confident, self-assured, healthy women that rise and set with true happiness in our hearts.

With Love From Your Mother.

Living with a Narcissist

I called my mother to let her know that "Little" was coming over on Saturday to spend the night. Unfortunately, that little task established a window for her to ask about my life so that she could criticize, give unsolicited advice, and revel in the fact that she is on higher ground than I at his particular moment. And can I tell you, she had no idea that 1) it was my wedding anniversary and 2) that I have been married for four years. Anyhow. Let's discuss.

My mother is one of those people who has ailments of various kinds, depending on how much attention she will garner from it. Case in point, when I was in high school, and at the height of her alcoholism, she would come home from the bar before my father and sit on the couch smoking cigarettes and crying. In reality she was crying because she was drunk, Dad would not come home when she wanted him to come home, and I think at that point she knew he was sleeping with her friends, but her story was that she had bleeding ulcers and the doctors said she could die. I actually felt guilty because I thought well, if you are going to die, please just do it so that I can have some peace. Actually, come to think of it, I am not sure I felt guilty about my feelings then.

Now, at the age of 56, she is too old for anything she does not want to do and instead of saying she does not want to do it, she just says she is too old and too tired. So I make sure I keep that in my pocket so that I can throw it out at her anytime she thinks she wants to do something in relation to my daughter that I do not want her to do. Works both ways Mother.

The other thing to know about Dear old Mom is that she does not want her children to be happier, smarter, more successful than she. My husband and I bought a very large house in 2003 that we built with every upgrade that the builder offered, including the largest lot in the neighborhood. Business was good and we had some family issues on his side that led us to believe that we would need room for a parent, plus we had the two boys to consider. Well it is 5 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms and sits on 17,000 square feet. The landscaping has cost us more than we will have to pay for the boys to go to college, including room & board, and we still have 1/3 of the yard incomplete. So, it is time consuming, costly, and now that the boys are in high school, too big for the three of us. We called G's parents and said, we are selling the house because of and laid out what I described in my previous statement. They said (and mind you that they are in their 70's, on a fixed income, and he is the only one with retirement), are you two ok, we know you love that house, are you in financial trouble, can we send money, etc. Supportive! My mother said, well I told you not to buy a house that big/expensive and you are not going to sell it in this market at that price and trying to keep it clean during the sales process is so hard, but we have all had to do it. You know when I was - blah blah blah.........
You get the idea.

Sales Monkeys are only sometimes trainable

So I am a sales rep. I have sold technology services, solutions, and products since 1997. Sales years are much like dog years, but not as generous. I have often said that at 34, I am 507 in sales years, there are two key components that make this true. I was explaining to some of my book club members why I am getting way too old to do this for much longer. The first component is what supports my previous statement. I am not smart enough to work for companies that build business models around multiple sales. There are products that make sense in that way, ie: selling copiers, Microsoft products, SAP, etc., but we are not one of them, nor have I worked for technology companies that have that model. What this equates to is a sales force that must start from zero every single month as recurring revenue does not fall into place. Though there are benefits to this, there are also major pitfalls.

Secondly, I have found myself selling in male dominated industries in which my internal and external competition have all been men. Fine, but I have a mouth like a sailor and really have very little patience for emotional nonsense when it comes to business. I am big picture, business minded and analytical. I do not appreciate grandstanding, nor will I patiently bat my eyes at you while you go on ad nausea while really saying nothing at all. If there is a point, I would appreciate you getting to it. I want change made quickly to benefit the company and the sales staff and I am not about to stroke your ego unjustifiably. Give me a run for my money and you will gain my respect and admiration. So given the male dominance in my professional life, and the fact that I have spent over 7 years in IT Security, there is nothing - and I really mean nothing, that I have not seen or heard. I am in all cases, just one of the guys. So that being said, the mamby pamby sales guy who bullshits about his fabricated pipeline, or treats me like the little lady of the bunch is going to be sad, embarrassed, pissed, when I call him out. It has happened everywhere I have worked and I do not foresee it getting any better. I have almost no ego, but I am good at what I do and produce results. Well DUH - this is a results drive occupation. Is that so hard to understand?

So my point is not to rant about the Kevin Homer's of the world, but to complain that we have had clients in the office all day from out of town. This is good right? More business, good for the growth of the organization. Well, yes. But the sales team has had to be on their best behavior and that is so damn difficult. The month is coming to a close and we are awaiting contracts that should have been here yesterday and we like to bitch, moan, and cuss about these things. I am fortunate in that two of mine came in today, but I am waiting for that one more that is just about to drive me over the edge. Not to mention the fact that our August pipelines are looking extremely thin and we will be white knuckling our way through next month. There are times I am on my best behavior, but there are conditions in which I just hate it.

Speaking of things I have to do: Today is my wedding anniversary and although my husband does not read my blog - Happy Anniversary G. Congrats on putting up with me for so long! So we are going to celebrate on Saturday night as I have one of my committee meetings tomorrow morning at 7:30am and he will be home late tonight. So my daughter is going to have an overnight with my mother and this requires that I call her. I am not looking forward to 1) calling my mother and 2) exposing my daughter to her. This being said, "Little" asked to go to Grandma's house (she actually asked for Grandpa) and they have not seen her since the beginning of June. I am truly working on forgiveness, but for those of you who do not know the selfishness of my parents, you have not idea how steep this climb is and I am doing it in roller skates.

25 Things to Do Before I am 36

I will be 36 on September 25, 2008, here is my list:

1. Lose ???? pounds (not divulging, but will stay honest)
2. Run the Boulder Backroads (I have completed this race, but with a run/walk combo)
3. Train for a marathon
4. Return to my degree program (I have less than 40 credits to complete)
5. Decide what I want to do when I grow up
6. Wear a bathing suit without panic
7. Go Skiing
8. Play 18 holes on Bear Dance during the week
9. Buy a dress
10. Spend one day without my email/phone/internet
11. Take a dive trip
12. Go on vacation and enjoy it.
13. Visit Mackenzie's grave site
14. Wear my hair curly in public
15. Have dinner with someone I normally would not
16. Go to a Rockies game with the Kings
17. Start a retirement fund
18. Share a long, passionate kiss that lights me on fire
19. Do something brave
20. Re-read Judy Blume books
21. Forgive
22. Visit Family
23. Spend a weekend with the girls
24. Go to a Broncos game at Invesco
25. Drink champagne to celebrate something special

I welcome any thoughts or additions.

But it is a Happy Monday!

The thing about coming to terms with the past is that it is exhausting and that must be true for the reader as well although I am receiving a lot of feedback, for which I am grateful. I have a poster on the wall at work that says "I Believe...That it isn't always enough to be forgiven by others. Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself." I have more forgiving to do. I have more purging to do, but not today. Because despite the fact that it is Monday, today I am happy. I overslept, I sang with my daughter, I made it to work, and I have nothing but meetings today.

So I had a great weekend, I mean I did spend some time working on my two previous blogs, but otherwise I had a great weekend. Chloe had ballet on Saturday morning, during which time, I worked on my 65 Days post (thank God for Windows mobile on smart phone devices - seriously!). We ran off to my husband's company party, which was held at an amusement park. My darling daughter rode the ferris wheel, the carousel, a real horse, the Safari ride that went up in the air, and a thing that spun her around and when up and down. Now Mommy's feet were planted firmly on the ground as Mommy is afraid of heights. Yesterday, we went to see Shrek The Third, which she has been asking to see since they started running the commercials. My daughter has loved the movie theatre experience since about the age of 2 1/2 and so she was mesmerized by the screen. So much so, that when the little boy behind us threw up all over our chairs, she had no idea why I was picking her up to move.

I tell my daughter every day that she is my best stuff and I truly mean that. She is a gift and encompasses all of my good qualities. It is easier for me to admire these qualities in her than to think that I actually possess them and good for me. My daughter is strong and proud, she is caring and loving, but strong and steadfast in her convictions. She is a leader and a perfectionist, but compromising in certain situations in which she must work as part of a team. I am very proud of her and so thankful I have been able to afford the school she is in. My job this week is to see more of her in me and feel this kind of pride and love about myself. My secondary task is to complete my list - especially since my book club dinner is tomorrow night.

Coming Up....Two weeks until the Tri for The Cure (who made me sign up for this??)

The Funeral and Ever After

I remember the Weber Family telling people that I was being investigated for killing my baby. I found out because people were calling my closest friends to find out if I was in jail. I remember my grandmother taking me to Saks Fifth Avenue to find appropriate funeral attire and thinking how absurd it was. I went to the funeral to make arrangements. When it was suggested that I select the equivalent of a styrofoam beer cooler over a traditional coffin to save money, I leapt to my feet with rage and the intent of knocking the funeral director flat on his ass. But it was the first emotion I felt outside of total devastation.

I was allowed time with my daughter who was beautiful in her baptism gown. She looked like she was napping in her white coffin. I placed a variety of treasures around her angelic body, including my cross. There were people, many people, but I do not remember any of them. I do not remember the words spoken, only that we were outside. I stood up, kissed her coffin, laid a single white rose on top of the spray, and walked directly to the car. I got in and the world stopped. People tried talking to me in the car and I waved them away. Couldn’t they see I was dead?

Back at the house, my parents had invited everyone over and they were drinking heavily. I do not remember any of my friends being there, but I know my mother was talking about how horrible this was for her. Juarez took me for a walk around my neighborhood to rescue me from the ridiculous chaos that I purely did not need. I am sure I did or said something obnoxious that sent him away again, but it was one of the last times I saw him. Shortly after I buried my girl, I ran into G. We ended up in his apartment crying while looking at Mackenzie’s pictures. We talked of getting married and having another baby to make ourselves feel better. Instead, I got up and walked out. I think I made the decision that I did not want to feel better and even after 17 years, I have kept that promise.

As I write this today, I cry. I am ashamed of my choices and my lies. I am angry that I was not able to protect my delicate child. I am hurt that my parents thought about their loss and garnered attention rather than show genuine and constructive concern for me. I am miserable that I spent the next year getting drunk and stoned to numb the pain. I ran away from this and from my parents by marrying the wrong man for me and wasting 6 years of my life with him. And I carry hundreds of pounds of guilt. I have had health problems in response to this guilt, which has required surgery. And yet, I do not feel like I have done enough to pay for the sin of losing a child that I had no business concieving in the first place. What does enough look like?
If I were any type of friend to myself, I would say we as people are not perfect. We use the tools were are given by our parents and if our toolbox is not full, we do not always have what we need to get the job done. I made a mistake, I am not a mistake. Though my heart broke, I did not truly die on that day and I shoudl stop wasting my time here on Earth. I have a beautiful daughter who is courageous, brilliant, charming, and beautiful. She deserves a healthy and whole Mommy. I deserve a life worth living. And I deserve to put this saddness, regret, and anger behind me.

I want to say something brilliant to Juarez that captures everything I need and want to articulate. I hope it does not take me another 17 years to do so in an appropriate way, but I need more time to think about what can truly be said to someone that I deeply love in the way that I do. For the time being, thank you is all I have and that will never be enough!

65 Days

I knew immediately that I was pregnant; the revelation came to me as I was in G's bathroom. Though we had had a sweet, simple relationship years prior, we were now together out of pain and suffering. We were looking for comfort that would never be found and would eventually find greater pain than either of us could imagine. Months earlier, I had gone to summer school and met a boy that went to my school, but I had never known. We became fast friends and had something resembling a healthy sibling relationship. I even stood in front of him one afternoon as his father came towards him with a purpose, stopping his old man in his tracks. I dared him to come closer. At 4’11” and less than 100 lbs, it was my anger that stopped his Dad that day, certainly not my stature. His parents were both military and made no bones about what a disappointment he was. That fall, he took his mother’s car out into fields surrounding our city; one of the guns left in the house, and fired a single shot into his head forcing the contents onto the window. It was one of my lowest lows. I had been to funerals before and had already experienced the death of several friends, but my mother was so worried, she would not let me go alone. The nightmares began immediately. I felt guilt. I made a bad choice, I ran for comfort where I was not going to find it. My “comfort” was having his own life tragedies, not to mention the fact that I had a boyfriend in another state. We sat in his apartment crying, we went to bed, and fell asleep. The nightmare came, waking and terrifying both of us. We sought comfort within each other. Standing in his bathroom, I knew that I had made a bad choice. I spent my entire last semester of high school denying it, I was so good, I believed the lies myself. I was 17 when she was born.

My plan was to give her up to a family that could not have children of their own. I had graduated high school, but neither G nor I were healthy enough to be parents, not to mention that we were not speaking to each other. For one reason or another, the family could not pick her up and Mackenzie Len came home with me. I grew fast into motherhood. We were one. I was 18 when we died. For 65 days we lived, that was almost 17 years ago.

The night she died I put her to bed. Hours later I felt unbearable pain in my chest and the greatest sense of panic. I ran to her room to find her turning blue and struggling to breath. My father had experience with pediatric CPR, which he began while my mother called 911. I could feel us dying and I started praying. I could not breathe, only scream. Everything was happening in slow motion and I had no control. The paramedics showed up and I knew it was not good when they made me ride up front. The next thing I remember, the doctor was walking down the hallway. I grasped his coat as he told me how sorry he was and I slid to the ground. While the ER staff was frantically trying to save my girl, I was in the chapel praying harder than I have ever prayed in my life. I saw nurses and tech crying in the ER, I hated them. Somehow I made it to the trauma room and stared at the naked blue shell that once held my baby's soul. My legs shook, my head throbbed as if I had been struck. I could not move. Why? Why Me? Why Her? Why? What did I do to deserve such cruelty and torment and pain? I ran. I ran out of the ER and down the street. I have no idea where I was headed, but I could not be anywhere in which I could find solace. I have no idea who caught me and dragged me back to the hospital. I have no recollection how I got home or when I left the hospital.

I remember the police investigators taking her clothing, I remember my friends coming over, only to find me unresponsive to everyone. I do not know who called him, or why it was done, but I remember talking to Juarez. He was the only one I talked to and I don’t remember what he said, but when I try to remember, I feel relieved and enveloped by strength – even today. He kept me alive that night. Never in my lifetime will I be able to thank him for the love, tenderness, and support he showed me that night. I am so embarrassed I cannot remember what he said to me. I remember so much else about us, but I cannot remember that. I do not know if I slept or if he stayed on the phone with me all night. I did not have to tell him how much I hurt, did he know, cause I never could have explained it. After everything I did, everything I said, I did not deserve him, but there he was. How do you ever say I am sorry enough to cleanse? How do you ever say thank you enough?

Fasten Your Seat Belts

Fasten your seat belts kids, this one will be all over the place.

I do a lot of volunteer work: outgoing Chair of the Parent Organization and head of Fundraising at my daughter's school, heavily involved in CSIA (www.coloradosoftware.org) with positions on the Legislative & Public Policy Committee, Education Committee (I architected the CSIA CSU "Inspire to Innovate" Scholarship), the DEMO Committee (where I Chair the Conference SubCommittee, am a member of the Selection SubCommittee, and a member of the Sales SubCommittee) and hold a Board position for the Internet Safety Foundation, which is Colorado's answer to Project SafeChildhood (http://www.projectsafechildhood.gov/). Beyond this, I work full time as a Business Development Manager for a Workplace Misconduct Risk Mitigation company selling incident reporting, internal investigations, and data forensics. For me, I belong to a book club. It is ridiculous sounding until you realize that we are a different sort of breed than most. There are no ankle length dresses or lace. The commercial where the women are making dip for their meeting - does not happen. We meet every 6-8 weeks at Bucca di Beppo where we start the evening with martinis, order lots of yummy food, and drink wine until dessert. There are about 15 of us, with others that come and go on an irregular basis. We know each other because our children go to the same school and otherwise, we are all so different, we would probably never interact. There are conservative Republicans, Liberals,lawyers, business owners, - we are all professional, white collar working women. So this back story sets up my discussion for today.

Our current book is The Next Thing On My List by Jill Smolinski. It is about a 34 yr old woman, June, who meets a 24 yr old woman, Marissa, at a Weight Watchers meeting. Giving her a ride home, they are in a car accident that kills the younger woman. June finds a list of 25 things that Marissa wanted to do before she turned 25 and resolves to complete the list before Marissa would have turned 25.

This book touched me and made me think about my own mortality. But our assignment for the book club meeting is to come up with our own list. So do I shoot for the 40 before 40 or do I shoot for the 36 before 36 (given that I turn 35 in September, I do not think I can do 35 before 35). So what is on my list? I am almost panicked because knowing what I do about myself, I know I will have to complete the list. So I have already completed a half marathon, but had to walk some of it. I know I would like to run a complete half marathon, marathon, and give some serious thought to a 50 or 100 miler. Which takes me to my next set of things which are to lose all this horrible extra weight and come to terms with my body as it should be for my age, height, etc. I am always either too thin or too fat and never middle of the road.
Ok, so I will post my list on this blog and you all can keep me honest!

Next, I had an interesting conversation with someone who has known me on and off for over 20 years. Juarez sent me two pondering thoughts last night: You will find happiness when you realize it is you that is extraordinary." AND " I have learned the hard way that you have to love yourself first. It seems like you feel as if you are being punished for the past and can not move forward. I very well could be wrong."
There are so many stories that go with all of this and as always Juarez is right.
I am not feeling extraordinary and it is all my fault because I do not feel like I am being punished for the sins of my past, I feel like I should be punished and am doing a damn good job doing just that. Let's work on letting go, falling in love with myself, gaining perspective, good health, and living an extraordinary life.

I promise to start telling my stories, because that is why I started this in the first place. To talk about the things that I do not discuss and then read them as a forgiving, loving friend rather than someone sitting in judgement. I will also figure out my list. Please feel free to make suggestions.

Oh what a week it is.....

So I have started watching Scott Baio is 45 and Single and I feel so much better about my life. Not because Scott Baio is miserable, but because I feel better. It helps that I have been so extremely busy this week and it has been a good busy, not pull your hair out of your head busy. I feel like I am helping to make strategic changes within our organization and I am excited at the potential that those changes will bring to all of us. I hope that our President sees me as an asset and someone who wants things to be better and takes a big picture, substantial growth view of things. Otherwise, he could just thing I am a bitchy sales diva - which could also be true. I like working hard and I like accomplishing what looks like it could be impossible. Why is that I wonder?

I had an interesting conversation with someone that I truly respect, genuinely admire, and spend good time with professionally. It was about her faith as a Christian woman. I feel abandonded by God and hold little faith. I am not sure I want to live this way anymore and would like to believe in something extraordinary.
Anyhow, wish me luck with this.

I am a writer

I started this blog thinking it would be therapy and nothing more, but have since made it public and invited an audience. Whether or not it is captivating enough to draw serial readers is really irrelevant to me since I am looking for something deep within me that nothing else has inspired. I was a writer, once upon a time, and even won an award for creative writing. A tragedy in my life took away my ability to write or create, but here I am.

I am turning 35 in September. Oh god, it is so painful to say and even worse looking at those evil numbers. I get insane around my big birthdays. 30 was a disaster for me, but once it came and went, I was fine. But 35 is headed my way and I have decided to take stock of my life and file away the things that may not be healthy for my psyche. The sober/email equivalent of the drunk dial is now going to be filed away as is my current relationship with my parents/family. I have a friend who is a certifiable lunatic. She manages to have every ailment, disease, affliction known to the medical community and still manages to smoke pot and cheat on her husband with his younger brother. In the file she goes.

The point is not to be a bitch or pass judgement on others, but instead to simplify my life, which has been extremely difficult for two decades now. I am going to love those who love me. I am going to trust those who trust me. I am going to learn my lessons so that they do not repeat. I am going to make it look easy, but admit when it is hard. I am going to ask for help and not trudge uphill alone. I have people that will do that with me and yet, I spend time trying to figure out why those who have left did so with such ease. Who cares, be gone. There is a fine line between building a wall and becoming/maintaining status as a healthy adult. I hope I can walk it.

Say What You Need To Say

So I have off and done it. And by it, I mean made a total jackass of myself. In keeping with the first boyfriend theme, let me just say that I am so overly done with people not saying what they need to say to one another. That was our problem all along - we never just said you are the one for me or I am crazy about you or I enjoy spending time with you. Someone who knew us both said to me on Friday: "I still cannot believe that you two did not end up together!". Yes ,well.

WHAT DID YOU DO? is probably what you are asking by this point - I shot off the sober/email version of a drunk dial. Closure. I was looking for closure - what I got was torment. The adjective best used for our ongoing relationship - TORMENT. Over the weekend, I watched Hitch. Seriously, this is a theme. There is a boy (and when I say boy, let me point out he is only 4 years younger than I am) in my office that does the same thing, or at least, that is my perception. And I do not understand it. I talk in circles at times because I am not clever enough to relay what I am feeling or trying to say, but both of these men are intelligent, clever, mindful people. TORMENT

I love my three year old because she says whatever is on her mind. There is no filter. So, yesterday I took some direction from her and told my husband exactly where I am in our relationship right now, which I am sure hurt his feelings, but prompted change immediately.
He said the greatest thing I have ever been the recipient of after I told him I was not in love with him right now. "Unfortunately, I am passionate about and in love with you and I say unfortunately because otherwise we could split and outside of custody, this would be a business transaction". I am not a catch and I realize this. I am difficult, I realize this, but from now on I am going to say what I need to say.

My First B...

I have decided to blog and have no idea why except that today I feel like telling a story. Whether or not it is worth reading, I guess you will have to be the judge of that. Someone asked me today if I was missing high school - let me just start by telling you I am about to be in my mid 30's, graduated high school in 1990, have my starter marriage behind me and on to number 2, and have children. My answer is that I do not miss high school, though I was blonde with boobs and had a rocking good time. I do not miss the fact that it was the late 80's and my parents were yuppy party animals that left their children to their own devices night after night. I do not miss that because I did not have any supervision, I made really bad choices. I remember the night it all began for me. I was in 8th grade and we had recently moved to Colorado. My parents were out and the phone rang. This was back in the day when there was really only one phone in the house. It was teenage boys prank calling, they tormented and scared the shit out of me and my little brother. I made an unconcious decision at that point to not be in that house at night anymore and to become a force unto myself. It took a year for that to fully develop, but once it did, I was hell on wheels. But this is jumping into the middle and I am not finished with the introduction.

So in honor of my first blog, I thought I would talk about my first boyfriend, which is what has me in a melancholy type of mood today. Dreams are interesting things. They either mean nothing or everything. I am in the process of determining which is true in the case of last night's vision. What is it about your first boyfriend that makes you starry eyed and ridiculous? Why is it that he is the boy that you have those annoying cat and mouse conversations that lack complete and total honesty? Why is he the boy that, when your life has completely come down around you, shows up and is who you need at that exact moment to be ok and then disappears as fast. Did I send him away or was he broken in some way that prevented him from staying or am I obnoxiously arrogant to think that he holds me in the same place that I hold him? (And before you get weirded out, we have stayed in touch off and on as adults.) As asked in the movie Sweet Home Alabama, do you really find your soul mate at 10, or in my case 13? I miss him.