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Apr 9

Can someone please explain Christians to me?

Posted on Tuesday, April 9, 2013 in Legitimate concerns

I would really love to have the opportunity to talk with a Christian and ask them honest questions about why they believe the things they do, without the conversation ending with everyone involved leaving pissed. In every attempt of having a conversation with a Christian (even with really nice, smart, true Christians), I’ve only ever encountered two things: being on the wrong end of a high-pressure sales pitch or upsetting the said Christian with my honest-to-God-honest questions. I’d like to ask some of them how they can call themselves Christians, yet not help the needy, and love everyone unconditionally. Isn’t that one of the big components of Christianity? How can a Christian be a Republican? Those are two conflicting ways of thinking, technically, yet they seem to go hand in hand so easily. I have a lot of questions that I would like answered, but can’t find someone knowledgeable enough to have an intelligent conversation without the drama of them being offended that I really don’t know about it and would like to know. I don’t know what’s wrong or right, and I certainly don’t want to be preached to.

A few years ago, I reconnected with an old high school friend, who is a perfect example of why I am so perplexed. This friend had always been high-drama, selfish, self-centered. And according to her, when we reconnected, she had “found God” and acknowledged her personal flaws and had made a conscious effort to change them (and succeeded–apparently it isn’t a lifelong struggle to be worthy of God’s love, you just have to say some magic words, or tell a few people that you’ve been reborn or something). But I didn’t see any sign of this actually being true. In high school, she used people, lied to them, treated those who cared about her awfully and was pushy and constantly judgmental. You know, the kinds of friend you feel pressured to lie to, because you simply cant’t stand the judging glare, which looking back now, I realize was just envy and fear. She expected the world to drop what they were doing when she needed them, but didn’t stop to think how others were doing and how they could use help. She threw actual tantrums when things weren’t going exactly as planned. Now, as an adult, and a born again Christian she is divorced once, with two kids from two different fathers, she hides her car from the repo man, sleeps with any man who looks at her twice, obsesses over men–to the point of stacking her whole worth on whether a man will have sex with her or not. She gives her children cough syrup and leaves them in the basement that she is currently living in, alone and drugged. She’s had two DUI’s that she was lucky didn’t kill her or worse, her children or someone else. And she still doesn’t ask about me, my life, how things are going. Instead, she assumes that things are awful and that I need to be “saved”. I only ever saw her less than a handful of times, after realizing that she was the same toxic person she’d always been, only worse. Each time, I heard the same schtick about how God saved her, and loves her, and how I need God in my life to “make things better” (? Yeah, things haven’t been perfect, but I don’t abuse my friends and drug my kids and I feel pretty good about the direction life is going for me). On the surface, I did notice some changes. She smiled constantly. Even when people normally wouldn’t (Like when someone is telling you to go fuck yourself, I personally wouldn’t be smiling), she’d paste this transparent smile on her lips and a glazed over expression in her eyes. She would go out of her way to say glowing things about the mass church she was attending, always recruiting. Always. She said she felt that it was her duty to become an Evangelist for her church, whatever that means (because, as I mentioned above–I really am not sure what that means….I would guess it means someone who is akin to a spokesperson or recruiting officer for the church, but I don’t really know). She even went so far as to stalk me at the hotel I was staying at, dragging me to what was basically a rip-off of Hooters, and giving me a wrapped copy of a book that was basically “Christianity and God for Dummies”.

On the inside, she was the same hateful, spiteful, toxic person she’d always been and I suspect she always will be. It really grates my nerves that she thinks she is superior to me because she goes to church every Sunday and pretends to be this good person, but doesn’t actually bring any good into the world. I was not raised in a particular religion and no one in my family, for at least three generations, has been strongly religious, so my experience is understandably limited. But I do know what it means to be a good friend, a good parent, a good daughter, granddaughter, a good person in general. I don’t lie to people, I try not to hurt people needlessly, I work hard, I don’t expect the world to bend to my will, I don’t put myself above all others at all times, and I certainly don’t parade around behind some pretense that I am a better person because I go to church.

I need to make a distinction here, for any Christians that may just stumble upon this random personal anonymous blog: I don’t not hate Christians, nor do I judge them for believing as they do. I merely have questions I’d like to ask, so that I can better understand their point of view. Maybe the reason fear surfaces so much in these conversations is that they don’t have the answers either? Or maybe they aren’t sure enough in their faith to stand firmly by it and explain it to someone who is completely without religious experience or knowledge.

Jun 25

Jennifer Aniston: Is it just me?

Posted on Saturday, June 25, 2011 in Legitimate concerns

I just wish I could catch a man!

I am funny, I am! I am!

In what could possibly turn out to be Nosebean’s shortest post, can I just say that I hate Jennifer Aniston?  I don’t understand where her popularity stems from.  She can’t act and she’s dog ugly. She has pretty hair….but that’s about it.  As far as I’m concerned, she’s an aging, washed-up television actress, who has only lasted in the media for as long as she has because she was once married to Brad Pitt (and even though he’s a weird dog, at least he can act).  I really wish she would just meet a guy and disappear, but given her string of failed relationships, it doesn’t seem likely. You see, when you snatch a guy from someone else, that means he’s “snatchable” and can only end in heartbreak and desertion.

One can only hope that in 10-15 years, we aren’t watching her play grandma roles. Jennifer Aniston, gets two thumbs down from me, sorry honey.

Jun 2

What Facebook is NOT…

Posted on Thursday, June 2, 2011 in Legitimate concerns

The time has come.  There is now a need for what I call Facebook Etiquette, so listen up, assholes.facebook

Facebook is….

  • NOT a place to embarrass yourselves and your elementary school teachers by displaying your pitiful spelling and grammar skills
  • NOT a place to advertise “your goodies”, aka, photos of your tits, ass or your muffin-top
  • NOT a place to post wedding photos of a wedding you attended, BEFORE either the bride or groom does
  • NOT a place to constantly bitch about your life and the people in it
  • NOT a place to make other people feel like crap
  • NOT a place to force Jesus down others’ throats, not everyone wants a daily dose of “God Wants You To Know”. Hard to believe, I know.
  • NOT a place for parents and children to be friends with each other or each others’ friends, it’s just weird and the potential for invasion of privacy is just too great, and there’s just no easy way to explain to your friends why your 14 year-old daughter is posting inappropriate photos of herself and her boyfriend in compromising positions at your home (actually, your friends may already suspect that you’re an awful parent, this just confirms it)
  • NOT a place to dispense parenting advice (there are lots of parenting forums, so visit and contribute there)
  • NOT the place to ‘LIKE’ anything and everything your friends post, instead of actually involving yourself in maintaining the friendship by inquiring about their lives (this one will be hard because more than likely, you believe that everyone on your friends list is waiting anxiously for an update on your love life)

exclamation-mark-150x150And most important, if you can’t follow ANY of the above rules, try to at least follow the next rule: Facebook is NOT a place to inform family members or close dear friends of a death in the family or death of a beloved pet PERIOD–not EVER is this ok. It’s shocking and horrible to learn of a loved ones’ death, and to read it on Facebook is an absolute insult on top of the pain and grief.  If you can’t take 30 seconds to send an email or better yet, call KNOW THIS:  you are useless and everyone privately hates you.

Dec 19

Since when do I have nothing in common with a 21 year old?

Posted on Sunday, December 19, 2010 in Legitimate concerns

Crikey. On Thanksgiving, my brother informed myself and various other family members that he got his girlfriend pregnant. Shocking, no? Ok, let me phrase it this way: On Thanksgiving, my 33 year-old brother informed myself and various other family members that he got his 21 year-old girlfriend that none of us have ever met in the whole 3 months they’ve been together pregnant. And that they were going to get married. To quote my brother, “She’s the one” (To quote my mother, “Look at a 21 year-old for too long, and she’ll end up pregnant”). Naturally, I’m excited and jealous, both, simultaneously. Excited because I never thought the day would come when my brother would have to grow up and be a man. Having a wife and kids was only mentioned in the same sentence as my brother’s name when jokes were being made. This was exciting. I was going to be an auntie! Nice. Jealous because I want to have a baby. My husband and I have been trying for awhile now, with no success. The jealousy quickly passed, and gave way to only extreme elated-ness, just as it should be. I started thinking of my brother being a daddy. How very wonderful.

Fast forward to now, present day. It’s a week before Christmas. My brother and his fiance have been married since Thursday (as in a few days ago Thursday). His now wife, lost the baby two days before that. It’s been a hell of a lot of ups and downs in this past week and I’ll admit there have been quite a few tears (for losing the baby, and not being able to attend my big brother’s wedding). But that’s behind us now, everyone seems settled, happy, and ready to celebrate Christmas. I’m now faced with the challenge of purchasing a Christmas gift for my sister-in-law, whom I’ve never laid eyes on or even spoken to. In fact, only yesterday did I see a photo of her for the first time (the wedding portraits, of course). Not only am I purchasing a gift for someone I’ve never met, but I’m attempting to buy a present for someone who was not that long ago a teenager. Again, I exclaim “Crikey!”. Thinking smart, I ask my brother what his wife might like. He says she needs a sweater. Something to keep her warm. And she likes pink. Ok, this I can do–no problem. Yesterday, while shopping, I have the foresight to snap a picture of the sweater I had planned on purchasing and sending it to my brother, asking for his approval. That was a big fat negative, I believe his words were “She would never wear that.” I had picked out a pretty reddish/pink long sweater with big buttons and a belt. I imagined it would look great on her, knowing what I knew of her physical appearance. Strike 1. I pick out a heather gray cowl-neck sweater, snap another shot, and send it off. Strike 2. Ok, a pinker-than-pink ribbed sweater, plain, but pretty. Stttteeeeerriiiike 3, you’re outta here. At this point, I make the call. “Brother, where does she shop?”, I ask. His reply was shocking and inconceivable to me: “Um, she really likes Pac Sun and some store with the number 21 in the name….I mean….she’s a kid…..well, not a kid…but you know what I mean….”. Yeah. I knew what he meant. Screw it, I had my husband pick up a $50.00 gift certificate to Pac Sun while I waited in the car and drove around until he came out because we couldn’t find a parking spot. I have to laugh, because upon his return to the car, he says “Those aren’t our people, honey”. No shit. I felt kind of bad that I was now so old that I couldn’t relate to a 21 year-old well enough to know that “duh, Pac Sun is THE place to get clothes”. So old that I had written Pac Sun off as a silly store for teenagers, filled to the brim with sunglasses and ugly shirts. I’m 30. That’s not really that old. And I guess I have to honest that never in my life would I have ever considered buying any of my daily attire at a store like Pac Sun or Rue 21. The problem I have with my sister-in-law shopping at these stores is not that they are her preference and she likes them, that’s her style–that’s fine. It’s that her shopping at these stores mean that not only do we currently not have anything in common–we NEVER would have, not even when I was 21, because when I was 21, I still was never THAT young. I’ll hold off on assuming too much before I ever even meet her in the flesh, but this situation does make me a little nervous.

I am happy, though. For the both of them. I hope they have a nice long life together, I hope they have lots of babies, and laughter and happiness.  And I can’t wait to meet her!

Sep 23

Toot it & boot it by YG lyrics

Posted on Thursday, September 23, 2010 in Legitimate concerns

yg

Why would anyone want to sleep with this presumed woman-hater? Come on, ladies, get some self respect!

Any woman who likes this song should be tried for treason and be forced to walk the plank straight into the icy waters of the Bering Sea. Let’s take a looky here, shall we? (please note, I copy & pasted this nonsense, so I can’t take credit for the typos, unfortunately)

(chorus)
I met her in the club
then I said wassup    (this alone would get me hot and ready from the get-go, of course, just like any woman, but it gets better, oh so better)
I took her to the crib
and you know I fucked
yea toot it and boot it  (WTF? Since when is ‘toot’ another word for sex? I thought only small children and older women referred to their farts like this..?)
toot it and boot it
toot it and boot it
thats why I toot and boot it (What is why you toot it and boot it? I didn’t see a reason in there…because you asked her a rhetorical question?)

(x2)
She think im cute, she wanna have Sex (cute? not really…  stuipd? Hell yes)
girl knock it off you know you cant have this (Oh, but she will…)

(Verse)
and she told me run that, i told her run it
and she never seen a chick until she met my magic stick (Magic? Not likely, more like infested filthy and probably limp dick.)
yo im a pimp bitch straight game never no sippin (what, now pimps can’t sip?)
And after we did it she was walking with a limp
bust it open leave it wet you know i leave it soakin (at least this makes sense, good job YG. Your 2 years of high school really paid off here.)
who next I don’t ever close, I stay open (oh, so that’s what a manwhore looks like–like YG)
i met her in the club, you know i was drunk
i asked her name and then i said i wanna fuck (this all sounds just so terribly romantic)
and im YG and you know I fucked (Yourself, later, after you puked on  yourself and maybe your dog, too)
and she fucked back like a little slut
and she fell in love ya
and she felt stupid cuz you know (so this is where it obviously surpasses just ok lyric writing..this shit is shooting for the stars, and almost reaching them)
i toot it and boot it

(Verse2)
girl let me toot that boot that stop actin stupid
acting like you dont know me like who that (Unfortunately, YG, until you have your own Wikipedia page, you don’t exist.)
walked in the club but ill fly things
im in the back girl you know where to find me
and I love how she think im cute
and she dont even wanna tell me what she wanna do
its me and my crew her and her friends
and they all trying to leave with us when the club ends
and she toot it from the back and you know she made it clap (this visual could be considered offensive if it wasn’t so goddamn funny to think of.)
and you know I run it back like (like what, YG? **Sigh**)
only for one night and she know im on like a switch on light
hey girl I can have you feelin right
I can supply the pipe (more like a pipecleaner–you know, the fuzzy wire things you make crafts with in the 1st grade?)
just make sure its tight
we can do it all day only for one night (this sounds like a daily special…)
and after that you gotta go (oh, man, if I was stupid enough to fall for all of this, I would want to forget it as soon as possible)

(Verse3)
i toot it to the left i toot it to the right (you put your left foot in, you put your left foot out….that’s how it goes, right?)
fuck with me we gonna do it all night (wow, how lucky can one girl get?)
i seen a bad bitch i swing my hat back (‘I seen’ a loser who would probably be homeless if today’s music industry wasn’t so morally bankrupt)
and after i hit its on my back
cuz i toot it and boot it
and made her feel stupid (wow, how terribly modern this admission is…)

One would think that all of these intellectual lyrics couldn’t be further improved upon, but their sloppy, lazy, slurred delivery by YG really cream my corn. Oh yeah, baby.

The next time I have the flu, I’m going to puke into a freezer bag and mail it to YG.

Feb 2

It’s shit, that’s what it is.

Posted on Tuesday, February 2, 2010 in Legitimate concerns

I'm mad.

I'm mad.

A little over a year ago, I designed and built a website for a friend, at a deeply discounted rate. I charged a measly $300, for something I should have charged over $1,000. Not only this, but I designed brochures, printed them, and helped this selfish bitch hang them around town. Additionally, I made several changes and updates throughout this last year. FOR FREE. I did it all because I knew that the business she was advertising was something she really wanted and would be good at, because she was my friend. On top of all of the free advertising I did for her, I asked her about her business, on a regular basis, genuinely interested in her success and funny, albeit stupid stories about clients.

Over a year later, she’s paid me half of what she owes me, and it’s looking like we won’t see the other half any time soon. To be a little more specific, after doing the math, she has paid me $11/month. That’s cheaper than cable! Cheaper than Netflix. Cheaper than the pot and liquor her boyfriend buys on a weekly (maybe daily) basis! What a selfish user she is. Ugh, she makes me so mad- I can’t wait until she is a nearly forgotten memory!

Dec 9

10 things I hate about you, {city name here}

Posted on Wednesday, December 9, 2009 in Legitimate concerns

I know I’ve mentioned in past posts about the lovely town I live in, and how much I sincerely loathe, I mean love, the people who generally populate this area. I’ve decided to vent, once and for all. I’m going to dump it all out there and then move on, or rather, move away! My husband and I are praying to be able to move away from this rat’s nest within the next 6-8 months to somewhere in the Southeastern region of the country.

Let’s jump right in with the list, shall we?

  • This town is up to its neck in trustafarians. By trustafarians, I am lovingly referring to the surplus population of 30- something hippies who live off of their daddy’s trust fund. Trustafarians can usually be found attending yoga in the middle of the afternoon, taking their 6 month old babies to dance class, sipping lattes in expensive but gross coffee shops or talking in a rather animated fashion on their cellphones while they cart their superstar soccer playing kids to and fro.  They preach buying local, being green, hugging trees, etc. When they are finished spewing from their judgmental soapbox, they hop into their Escalades, Yukons, or Land Rovers and drive to their $600,000+ homes with million dollar views, send their household staff home to their apartments or rented rooms on the outskirts of town or further, which is the only place household help can afford to live on the measly salaries they are given, crawl into their lush king-sized beds in Martha Stewart decorated bedrooms. What the CHRIST do these people know about, well, anything?
  • Hippies. These are tricky in my town, because, well, as I’ve always understood it–hippies are loving people, they love everyone, man. They accept you for what you are and they embrace you. Hippies have also been commonly known to stink to high heaven, smoke a lot of pot, and hang out in parks, loving everything…right? This is only partially true in my town. The word “hippie” in my town, might as well be short for hypocrite. Yes, they stink–oh good lord do they stink. And yes, they smoke pot, in inordinate amounts. But when it comes to the hierarchy of judgmental fucks, they are at the very tippy top. I have never felt so judged, in my entire life, for being the type of person who showers, grooms themselves and cares to do a good job at work. If you’ve read my blog, you know I can tend to be a bit judgmental at 4times…I am but a simple kitten in comparison to these people. I might be wrong but I’m pretty confident that disliking someone because they aren’t just like you is the exact opposite definition of the word “hippie”. Oh, and white guys with dreads in my town? No way!! Just on every other block. Good thing there are hardly any african americans in this town, right? Actually, I miss experiencing diversity, because there sure as hell isn’t any here.
  • Real estate. Is a joke. People who work here can’t live here. Well, now, that’s not entirely accurate. People who work here are welcome to rent a room in someone’s house, or rent a nasty apartment for $1300, no students/pets/smokers/poor people. To be clear, I’m saying, people who work here can’t own real estate here. Affordable real estate is $250,000. In other words, affordable real estate is a laugh-out-loud joke. And let’s not forget what comes along with real estate: Real Estate Brokers. Ick. Even typing the words makes me shiver in disgust. Pushy, slimy, glorified sales people is what they are. As I used to be in the real estate “biz” I’ve been over-exposed to these sale-sy type people and if I never meet another one ever again, I’ll live a happy, satisfied life.
  • Skiers. You would not believe the amount of press the ski resort here gets. People praising this or bitching about that. I am so unbelievably tired of hearing about when the resort will open for the season, or people’s complaints that the resort is a shit hole, but that the renovations are taking too long and are making the resort seem like it’s bigger or more important than it is (or ever could be). Make up your fucking minds. As far as I’m concerned, this is not more important news than, oh, say, the tragic death of a great wife and mother. My suggestion to skiers: Take a ski lift to the top of the highest ski run and stay there, because chances are, we won’t meet there anytime in my lifetime, which will be more than soon enough for me. Oh, and let’s not forget snowboarders. The quicker they injure themselves off of the slopes, the better off everyone else is, and not just those on the mountain. They make them so young now. 8 year old snowboarders, whizzing by as you cross your fingers and hope not to die on a green run.
  • Bicyclists. I’ve posted about this previously. Recently there was an article in our paper about a guy who got so fed up with the bicyclists in our area that he had started intentionally trying to run them off of the road with his pick up truck. Hoooooo-fucking-ray. Kudos to him for finally doing what we’ve all wanted (dreamed of, imagined vividly in our daily daydreams) to do at least once a week (oh, come ON–you know you have!), more often for me. Bicyclists in this town are the rudest, most easily hated segment of our population. Share the road–no, share my foot up your ass. What really bothers me about these “people” is that we have plenty of nice places to safely ride your bike and these shit sticks feel the need to ride in the middle of the lane on the busiest, most dangerous streets in the area. Sadly, you rarely hear of a bicyclist being taught a good lesson. You’re probably thinking: It’s December, soon they’ll be off the roads. But no. The thing of it is, these bastards ride come rain or shine, sleet or snow. The below-freezing days of December, January, February, and March mean nothing to them, except MORE LAYERS. Blegh. I hate hate hate bicyclists.
  • SNOW. Seeing as we just got two feet of it, and my husband and I are now aching from head to toe from heaving snow from here to there, it’s safe to say that I hate snow. And we get a lot of it here. Since I don’t ski anymore, and I don’t particularly like sliding around in my car on the roads, I could do without it entirely. On top of the hassle the snow itself presents, this town is chock-full of powder heads. A steady stream of assholes in their stupid subaru outbacks, sliding and skidding 25 miles up the mountain to get in on the fresh “pow pow” as I have heard it so eloquently put, drinking way too too much at the resort bar and then drunk driving 25 miles home in the dark. Sure, put us all at risk, we don’t mind, as long as you had some killer runs, dude. Why not hit a few elk because you can’t see straight or control your motor functions? Why can’t more skiers get lost on the mountain? Ok, I don’t really mean that..but it would be nice if for some reason, all of the snow melted and everyone had to go home and stay there.

This pretty much concludes the worst things about this town. It certainly is not meant to be an exhaustive list, but it hits all of the major things that I hate, so that’s good enough for me!

Dec 6

Tree?

Posted on Sunday, December 6, 2009 in Legitimate concerns

I’ve looked in the garage, the hall closet, the shed, the guestroom, the office, under the beds, even behind my bulky wedding dress, only to be completely disappointed to NOT find my little trusty fake Christmas tree. I can’t honestly sell myself on the idea that I sold it in the garage sale we had before we moved into our new house, but seeing as my memory is only slightly better than a goldfish’s, that very well could be the case. All I can do is hang my head in shame and sadness. I had such plans for tree. While my husband seems to be letting out a sigh of relief that something so tacky as tree will not be a part of our Christmas tradition this year, I am painfully processing this deep loss of tree.

It was a beautifully grotesque, +/- 3 ft tall, fiber optic gem, complete with changing colors and pliable limbs. Perfect for that empty tabletop in every single gal’s house. Could it be that I let the fact that a man was willing to marry me be a good enough reason to cast off this perfectly good tree? Was I coerced? Blackmailed? Unaware of some crime that took place where my tree was killed and the evidence neatly thrown away? Or, even worse, did I simply leave it somewhere, sending it the ghastly unforgivable message that I didn’t love or need it anymore? What kind of tree owner am I? When did I ever believe that I had the right to own a fiber optic tree? I can’t even remember where I saw it last. At this point, all I can see is the tree’s premiere year, in all it’s glory, casting red, green, blue, pink, purple shadows on my thrift store furniture and white walls. Many a night, tree and I sat together in cozy silence (it was like that for us, no awkward silences between us, no sir!), I, wishing I had a real tree, and tree, wishing it was a real tree…

Husband has a convincingly blank look on his face when questioned about tree. I’m close to eliminating him as a possible suspect. And since he could really only be the one other suspect, I am forced to consider the possibility that the blame falls on me. I, myself, carelessly (and I must add, hastily) parted ways with tree, without ceremony or proper farewells. Probably under the arm of some thrifty shopper who plucked it out of the piles of treasures we sold during our yard sale. I probably put it into the ‘sell pile’ foolishly thinking that a real tree could easily replace the hole in my heart caused by the eventual realization of the loss of tree. I’m only hoping that if this is what actually happened to tree, that it is being properly cherished this year. Oh, and I hope we got a good price for it!

In the inevitable spirit of moving on, we put up our real Christmas tree last night. Lots of pretty Christmas decorations are in place. The inflatable penguin is waving in a friendly fashion to all of our neighbors. The poinsettia is proudly watching over the kitchen and living room. Stockings are hung, our Christmas Village, complete with trees and snow, is displayed. Our napping Santa in his rocking chair is gracing the top of our piano. Husband has expertly (and might I add, beautifully) lined our roof line and front window with Christmas lights. I will enjoy Christmas this year, because I am thankful to be married to an exceptional man and know that I am lucky to be spending Christmas in his arms. Additionally, between both my husband and I, we have amazing family members with which to celebrate the season. Despite all of this, the decorations, the family, the food, there will be a tiny part of me, thinking about tree, missing tree. I’ll take comfort in knowing without a doubt, that tree will bring joy to whomever is lucky enough to sit in it’s comfortable silence and colorful shadows.

tree

tree

Nov 27

Things to say

Posted on Friday, November 27, 2009 in Legitimate concerns

Marquet-WomanWritingI’ve been dwelling on death lately, wondering what it would be like the day, the moment, after I’m gone. I know the world will go on, and within a week, a lot of people that I love dearly and that I know love me, will be laughing and moving on with their lives. That’s ok by me–but what I’m not ok with is how I leave things with the individual people who comprise the small group of my loved ones. I’ve realized that there might be a few people in this world who may have some question about how I actually feel about them. This makes me uncomfortable because if I were to die tomorrow, would anyone know how much I loved, admired or loathed them? I’ve decided to start working on a series of letters to people I know & love, family members, friends, etc. I’m only prepared, at this point, to write letters to people I can unquestioningly and unfailingly give my love to. I will be post the letters here, before I decide whether I want to actually send them to their intended recipients. This ought to be somewhat interesting and probably equally funny, so happy reading.

Nov 22

Goodbye

Posted on Sunday, November 22, 2009 in Legitimate concerns

A dear member of our family was killed, Monday of this week. I could say all of the obvious things here: that she was a loving mother, sister, wife, inspiring, giving etc. But everyone knows that. Anyone who knows her, knows her even the tiniest bit, already knows that C was all of these things and more. I don’t need to recap on that.

A day after C’s funeral and I am feeling: anger, frustration, sadness, and oddly, hope.

Anger at the asshole who did this, who carelessly ended her life. Angry that they were driving in a piece of shit car with no airbags that should have been dumped long long ago. Angry that not only is she gone, but 3 beautiful kids were also injured and are in a serious bad way right now. Angry that our star athlete may never walk again.

I’m frustrated because I can see everyone in so much pain and there’s nothing I can do. Nothing I can do or say will bring C back or will it make it ok that she’s gone. What I’d like to do is just absorb everyone’s pain into myself and just go out somewhere far away from everyone and everything and just blow myself up to get rid of all of the pain. But even if I could do that, it wouldn’t end the every day pain of missing each and every minute of her life that she should be having right now. I am married to the brother of C’s husband. I am the newest member of their family and I don’t know where I belong–where the boundaries are. I don’t know how, when or where to best show my love and support. I feel like an outsider, an intruder, even though I care for this family, MY family, so very much. This makes me frustrated and unsure. I have always had a hard time letting people in, and this week, I learned that I need to be more flexible in this way. I had always imagined that one day she and I would be great friends, because we seemed so similar–hard to get to know, walls up, but I certainly waited too long. And I am mourning the loss of knowing her better.

Sadness comes and goes, because I am also hopeful. When we first got the call and rushed to the hospital, I was scared, confused and in shock. My sadness gives way to hope when I realize that I am lucky to be alive. Not only am I lucky to be alive, but I am lucky to be alive and able to give of myself in the way that she always did. I have the opportunity to tell my husband that I love him, one more time. With C’s passing, I have been handed a gift of knowing that everything that I have, family that I have, every minute I live and breathe is an absolute gift.  I don’t want to waste a single minute of my life not telling people that I love them, showing them my love. To tell you the truth, I’m ashamed that it takes something like this for me to wake up and realize the value of what I have, how fortunate I am to be where I am, with the people who are here. Nothing is promised in this life, to be sure. I’m going to go enjoy it while I can.

C may have left the physical world, but I see her everywhere.