This was in the top 3 bedrooms of all time, probably tied for number one really if I think about it, such a good space, a beautiful bed, albeit a little broken…and I had no problem walking away from all of it.
I still have my lion and the blue wall hanging and apparently I have a thing for Beatle’s lyrics. I still have that too, stashed in the corner of my attic. It comforts me in a way I cannot articulate.
Here comes the sun
And I say
It’s alright
The Beatles
It poked through the clouds just now for a fleeting moment, promise for later maybe. The clouds are different today, low and dark, cutting quick paths across the sky.
There are workmen up a ladder banging 4 feet away from my balcony. I leave the door open when I can, I have always preferred fresh air to canned. Fresh everything compared to canned really, I wouldn’t make it on a submarine, not even a yellow one.
I feel like I am being pulled out of and simultaneously driven from my space, but I want to be in it.
I am stubborn, I’ll just endure; it is what I do. This is reminiscent of a 3 year old pilgrimage to Florida wherein they were repairing mild hurricane damage to the outside of the building and the unit upstairs. 10 to 4 the condo was uninhabitable. That was the trip where Panda could no longer hide her hatred of me either.
Fun times all around. I made it through that I can make it through this.
Spotify playlist is co-operating, and I found incense that smells like brownies baking. I am not used to burning candles and incense without any magical intent, but I haven’t made it to the magic shop yet. Maybe today if the construction continues.
Had I gotten up with my alarm this morning, maybe things would be different.
But I didn’t. I was dreaming and whatever was happening in my subconscious psyche was more important than coffee or waking life. I was trying to sort through something in dreamland, I don’t know if I did or not, the banging started and here we are.
The siren’s call of my bed was too much to resist.
Ah yes, not the prettiest of my segues but there it is.
You know, I can only remember a smattering of what I wanted to talk about yesterday.
I ought to learn to scribble stuff down even if I don’t have time to sit down and compose things. Even then, sometimes I still forget.
I behind left my notebook with all of my book notes, but I have an authentic kimono hanging in the closet. My priorities are skewed sometimes.
Where were we, ah yes…you made your bed, go fuck in it.
I just tried to find the scene on the Youtubes and got the motivational speech by the Naval Admiral instead. If you want to change the world start by making your bed.
I should probably watch that, and also make my bed. There are a few dishes in the sink that need doing too and my hair needs a post wash brushing so it doesn’t dread, but it is a lazy day with no sun (ain’t no sunshine when he’s gone) and I don’t really have a plan beyond talking to you fine folks and potentially working on my tan.
If I had my way, I would be fucking in my bed right now. I always want to be fucking lately, but alas, it isn’t in the cards this week.
Instead I am cocooned alone trying to speed up time while still using it wisely. It’s not working.
My mind wanders.
See yesterday’s post that took a rambling path of its own and left me here trying to remember what I wanted to talk about.
I was recalling an argument yesterday, as I was pouring my morning coffee. No idea what triggered it.
Not an argument so much as series of unfortunate events and a missed opportunity for a wicked closing statement.
As far as break ups go, it was fairly screen worthy. The slow dawning of comprehension on my face that went from demure and smiling to sparks and rage. I power up when I am angry, and the entire bar stopped what they were doing and took notice.
I don’t ever try to be dramatic, but sometimes it just happens. I had a couple whiskeys before I walked down the street from one bar to the other.
It felt like some season ending scene from a tv show, except at the end; there was no rain and he didn’t chase me. I wouldn’t have chased me either. The last thing I said was “I don’t like the way my name sounds coming out of your mouth.” Not so much said, as roared.
Can’t really argue with that.
It would have been good to just leave it there, but if you have read any of this blog, nothing ever ends so much as it morphs into something that it probably should have always been. Flirtatious friendship, emotional support and unwavering loyalty.
I do regret not using that line from Weeds, that stood out to me 15 years after it was said. A show I never watched more than 3 episodes of. I do love Mary-Louise Parker, I have since Fried Green Tomatoes. I just like her face when she says certain things, the tone of her voice when she said it wryly with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow always tickled me.
And I have had so many opportunities to use it.
I coulda, shoulda, woulda used it then but I was flustered and admittedly angry.
I did my best. My best was pretty good.
Anger is just grief wearing a different mask.
Difficult not to feel a little bit disappointed and passed over.
A Perfect Circle, 3 Libras
That happens to me a lot.
I gravitate to men who have some thing that is their priority in life and I always come in second. Which in itself is fine really, I am too much my self to be anyone’s everything. Or they leave me for some watered down girl.
Or both.
He did both.
More important to be a gangster than be happy, I guess. So be it.
Not my fault she sucked in bed.
It didn’t end there, in the bar, with me looking like gorgeous raging Valkyrie in a grey dress spinning on my heel, doing a quick shot handed to me at the bar by one of the onlookers and striding out the door before climbing into a cab with what was left of my self-preservation and crying bitter tears all the way home. I refused to hit my patented self-destruct button which would have had me walking another half a block up the cobblestone street, past the cab stand to the basement bar that sold 2 for $5 Wisers on Thursdays. It was a Thursday and I think I was just done with all of it.
I leveled up in that moment when I went home to my perfect sanctuary of a room, washed my face, changed into pajamas, popped a movie on a fell asleep by midnight.
I think I spent so much time fighting against break ups during my marriage, I have no fight left in me. You want to leave, there’s the door. Or in this case I was in his space so I walked out the door without looking back.
You made your bed, go fuck in it. I am going home to sleep in mine.
I tried to sleep, he called me that night, a lot. He said he was sorry quite sincerely, but it didn’t change anything.
I told him I understood, and I did. That is also a thing I do quite well.
What he couldn’t wrap his head around is why I was still angry.
“Hun-nee” I said, my voice metered, my words clipped, “just because I understand why you are doing what you are doing doesn’t mean I can’t be mad about it.”
And that my friends, is the gospel truth.
I have the ability to understand the ‘why’ about most things, even if it is something I would never do or haven’t ever done, I still get it enough to wrap my head around it.
Grasping the reasoning behind your folly doesn’t mean I have to participate.
Understanding doesn’t necessarily denote approval. Nor do I argue against things I don’t fully grasp. Not my place.
And that is how it was left. I left.
Life doesn’t have to be more complicated than that. People make decisions every day, and I get to decide if I participate in the consequences of decisions they make and make my own accordingly.
I react, or I don’t. That is entirely up to me.
Lately I don’t react. Full system fail safe shut down instead of full blown dangerous melt down.
Grudges and tantrums are pointless, and anything I was mourning the loss of was just a future I had invented in my head. Gave me the freedom to invent a new one. And this one is pretty good.
There is no such thing as a mistake. There are things you do and things you don’t do.
Oliver Martinez