Monday, October 31, 2011

The Difference Between Wants and Needs

Several years ago I when I was still a wreck,* I believed that I NEEDED a man to complete my life.  I was a new mom, very single, very sad, very scared.  I felt rejected on so many levels.  The thing that hurt that most, that I have not gotten over yet, that I know is still hanging like a big, fucking albatross around my neck is the fact that the newsletter writer for my alma mater told me that my 'situation' wasn't something that others needed to know about.**  I hated myself so much.  Like Hester Pryne, I had proof positive of my sins, while the father hid in the shadows.  I felt that if I HAD a man to give some type of legitimacy to my child, than I would be a socially acceptable person again.

Fast forward to present day.  My son is turning 6 on Wednesday.  He's excelling in school where he thinks he's the big man on campus, is loved by his family, and couldn't be more adorably cute if I asked him to be. I have pictures to back that up:

I've come to understand over the past 2 years with a lot of help from a wonderful therapist, a handful of loving friends, and an amazing Band  to back me up, that I don't NEED a man to make my life complete.  I don't feel like a scarlet whore any longer.

I've come to a point where I WANT a man in my life.  I want to share my life with someone else.  I want someone to sleep next to me at night.  That person who can meet my eyes and know that the person I am talking to is a complete idiot.  I want someone who will love and respect me the way I know I deserve to be treated.

I'm lonely tonight.  I hate having these feelings that I can't do anything with.  I'm through needing someone.  I'm ready to want someone.

*I don't claim to have all my shit together, but I am a far more happier, SANER, grounded person now. My life isn't the shambles it once was.

**I finally sent an email to that asshole tonight.  He's finally going to get a piece of my mind.

Thursday, October 20, 2011

About Benjamin

Since I'm working for myself, I am really nobody's bitch any more.  Except for when I am working with The Band.  Then Benjamin becomes the task master.  I haven't been beaten with the whip yet, but I just waiting for him to tell me that my editing could use some fine tuning.  According to him, I'm not allowed to double space my sentences anymore.   Whatever!  I do what I want. . . .at least here. . .and I'll use my ellipses whenever I damn well feel like it, Aunt Becky and BreakfastMeat.

So Benjamin has decided to join the blogsphere which he realizes is kinda late in the game.  After all it's not 2003 anymore.  Go check him out.  Tell him The Diatribest sent you and that you think he's hot.  Or not.  I don't know. All I can tell from his photos is that he is a skinny tow-head and I would probably crush him.

Peace and Chicken Grease,
The Soliloquy of the Antihero

A very long time ago, in the cold tundra of Minnesota, I was born. Kicking and screaming, I was brought into a world I didn’t understand, to be the antihero in my own life story.
Thirty years and a few crazy decisions later, not much has really changed. I’m a new transplant to the Chicago area, and took up writing and editing mostly as a side-effect of joining The Band. It turned out I wasn’t as bad as your average chimpanzee, and so I decided that writing was something I was going to start doing on a regular basis.
I love food, children, games and puzzles and have spent my whole life trying to figure out new ways to play with all of them (not at the same time) and that’s kept me amused most of the time.
If it’s crazy, I probably tried it. If you can make a buck at it, I probably did it for a living, and if it was fun, I probably tried it again. I can’t stand ellipses, bad use of semicolons or the phrase “The fact that” in a sentence.
Benjamin Searle, an important part of a nutritious breakfast.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Aunt Becky, You Shut Your Whore Mouth

I am tempted go all John C. Mayer on Aunt Becky's ass. Because I want to be #3 on Google entries about songwriters who are waiting for the world to change while they touch bodies of wonderlands.

I will use ellipses if I damn well want to. . . and there's nothing you can do.
By the way, US Postal Service, why the fuck did you think that an 8x10 one of a kind, limited edition, autographed print of a Land's End model slightly crazed, rhinestone-studded, chainsaw-wielding mother of 3, wife of The_Daver would fit in a 4x3 PO Box slot? 

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Exhausted, Yet Alive

I'm tired.  Not just tired, but beyond fucking exhausted.  Like it hurts to keep my eyes open and feel as if I am moments away from bursting into tears, but I have to write.

My mind has been still for too long, my soul shut up and chained.  And I'm finally finding sweet relief. 

Things has started off badly about a month ago.  I had a massive panic attack for 2 DAYS. I'm not sure what triggered it exactly but it was a combo of dealing with child support remodifications paper work
and finding some of the hateful letters my ex sent trying to convince me to give up my son, hating my weight which is more than it needs to be, feeling inadequate around the soccer moms at Jeremiah's
school (one mom started her sentence with 'my husband the dr'), not being able to see my shrink for over 3 months because I was/am broke, and stressed about being REALLY fucking broke. 

Like beyond broke. At one point I was down to $3. I wasn't just robbing Peter to pay Paul but I was beating the shit out of the other Apostles. I had lost my internet, received my final motice for my electric bill, my rent
was over due along with my car payment is overdue, and I had two bills that got resent to collection when my scheduled payments bounced.

It's not that I'm not working!

I am busting my ass everyday. And now it looks like things might be turning a corner.  Good things are finally coming my way.  I'm going to be teaching math to 3 and 4 year old every Tuesday and Thursday, so within a few months that should be a stable source of income that will allow me to finally break from from writing crappy $2 articles.  I'll be able to focus so much more of my time into my writings.

I've been asked to join the editorial board for Band Back Together, which just applied for non-profit status.  Things are taking off for this group and I am so proud to be a part of it.  I cut my hair to my sassy, kick-ass, curly short style that's I've dodged for three years. 

I know things are changing, I'll be doing good as long as I plug on.