Wednesday, April 28, 2004

My name is mud...

well, okay, not really.
but a little Primus now and then never hurt anyone.
except that kid who tripped on his Tales From the Punchbowl CD and broke his elbow.
but, i only meant it in a general sense anyway.
you always take me so seriously.
and dammit, now i have to listen to that song.
which means i'll have to stop my little playlist, find another one and put it on that song.
i know.
it makes me tired just thinking about it.
oops, picked the wrong playlist, and when No Leaf Clover starts playing, you don't just stop it.
that wouldn't be right.
oh well.

so i ran into my hair dresser tonight...
as soon as she walked in, i cringed and offered brightly, "I cheated on you!!"
her dry reply came, "I can see that."
then we discussed my options...
not as easy to fix as i had hoped.
now i'm kind of pissed at the little hooker who did it without even warning my (apparently) color-blind ass that there was god damn purple in the dye.
looked black to me.
my girl will fix me up.

i finally have my camera (AND the cables with which to download) back in my possession.
yes, he bought the damn thing.
yes, it's technically "ours".
but, you know...fuck that.
it's mine.
and i was beginning to twitch.
so now, all is well.

no it's not.
i know this is usually a place for silliness and salaciousness.
but, let's not forget, it's my journal and you all know i don't leave anything out.
i am heavy of heart today.
please feel free to skip it, i just have to say it--to pour it out onto the keyboard so it has its place...

***Gut-wrenching Rant to follow Be Advised***

do you know what's shitty about loving other people--friends?
that when they hurt you hurt.
and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.
you want to get on a plane, and fold her into you and pat down her hair and tell her it'll be okay.
but it won't.
32 year old mothers of two don't get to start over as easily as they should.
not in small new england towns.
not when she's a strict mormon who would only consider marrying the same.
not when she has the self esteem of a gnat...
my throat is closing again just thinking of her voice on the phone.
and my stupid fucking opening comment in response to her question,
"have you talked to A. [her little sister/my best friend]?"
I gasped, with a smile in my voice, "NO WAY!!!"
we both knew i expected news of expectancy.
(god, just typing that i feel the tears pushing at me)
"no, i wish it was good news..."
my heart started to break before she even hit me with it--thoughts first flying to their youngest brother who joined the fucking Marines last year.
and i skipped the momentary relief and went straight to gut wrenching ache for her when the reason for her call was spoken.
"J. and I are getting divorced."
I sit here in the dark, crying.
writing this and not knowing what to do for her.
there's nothing i can do.
she has a wonderful family, close by.
but what the fuck does that matter when you promised to spend the rest of your life with someone who promised to love you for all of yours and then changed his fucking mind?
fuck that.
fuck deserting your kids.
fuck leaving a beautiful woman--inside and out--alone in the cold gray world of rejection.
god damn it.
and fuck cell phones that lose signal less than a minute after carrying this news between two women in two states.
so i don't even know what's going to happen or how it happened or why.......
i don't imagine she knows those answers anyway.
i've known her my whole life, like family.
why isn't there anything i can do?
just to take her heart out of her chest and hold the pain for a few minutes so she doesn't have to?
i can listen.
that's all i can do, is listen.
whenever she wants, for however long she wants.
and i can keep my tears silent on the other end of the phone.
shattered dreams?
shattered reality, more like.
shattered existence, shattered soul, heaving sobs always stuck in the throat.
pain that will heal--
as fast as a snail might make it around the equator.

and suddenly my stupid fucking hair doesn't matter.
i want to throw up.

shake it off, Lisa.

I can't.

I guess i'll go to bed, and cry a new flavor of tears.
...tears of selfish happiness that i have what i do.

peace to all your hearts---

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