Today is ridiculously close to being over, and what's worse is that when this post finally makes it will get lost among on the twating and tweeting of pictures of people's fucking lunches...like who seriously cares if you had a Caesar salad...it's still a fucking salad....or pathetic gurgles of immature bullshit life updates which constitute the lives lived of teenagers masquerading as adults...like the new shoes you bought or how many shots you took last night before crawling into work with a hangover or whether or not your secret crush will call you....who the hell has the time to sit by the phone and wait and what's more moronic is who the hell posts that shit when they know damn well this "special someone" is on your friends list and will read that and then block you....
Do I sound negative and pissed to you? Well I fucking am....that's the f bomb 3 times in less than 5 minutes of typing...does it really count if I add the 'ing'? Because if not then I might just have to drop it a few more times in what today is going to be a rant.....no musings, no mindlessness...just a full on pissed-off-gonna-take-someone-out-with-me rant.
Its 11, no scratch that, 10 years of trying to reverse a crap load of mistakes...or poor choices or whatever euphemisms I can think of.....its 10 years of trying to right all the wrongs of one fucked up year, and not managing to get it right....its trying so hard to do the "right" thing that I realize why the hell I did the wrong thing to begin with...its realizing that defeat is an option if you're up against a white educated affluent male with loads of daddy and mommy's money and a pitiful story to tell the presses...
so there's the headline for today! Poor oppressed white male being bullied by evil ex wife! The horror of it all! God forbid the press slows their roll before it comes hot off the press, and does some fact checking to see that no amount of whining and boo hooing will make up for the malcontent surrounding a situation that amounts to a very very very very very very (is that enough emphasizing) lazy person who lacks the self discipline to be a better person...and if not for himself, then his child....
And who says I'm asking for world peace or to end global warming or feed the starving masses or better yet come up with a financial solution for the U.S. deficit? All I'm asking for is that you put down the pipe, and step back so that you be a better person, be a better father....don't sit there in your $100 hunting boots, texting on your Droid X2, with your spoiled little smirk and claim you're put upon and broke, starving and destitute....
Haul your bony useless ass down to the VA, Star of Hope, the fucking Texas Workforce Commission and show me put upon, show me the faces of those who truly are destitute....hell, lets see how well it goes over with your lily white ass applying for food stamps....see how many sympathizers you have then....
It's not entirely impossible to change, to pull yourself up out of the deep.....to make even the slightest smidgen of an effort to right wrongs, to change the course of what is your life....
I am a living, breathing, walking, cursing, stumbling, misshapen and frumpy proof of what it means to turn your life around....I spent the first year out of high school do anything and everything to prove I could do what I wanted when I wanted....and all I ended up with was a hole in my septum, a turbulent past scattered with skeletons and bodies and wreckage, a headache worrying and obsessing about what I would have done differently, but most of all I ended up with a blonde a little tiny 4 foot and change person to remind me that all that doesn't mean shit if I can prove I can change....
A eye rolling, huffing puffing little dwarf who tries my patience to no end and sometimes makes me want to invest in a muzzle...or ear muffs so I cannot hear the incessant nagging and bitching and moaning for the normal tween wants and growing pains...but who reminds me with that surprising out of left field hug or notes left on my computer monitor at work or that once and a while kiss in public that its all in what I do now, today, not yesterday that will make my future....that I cannot change what I did, but what I am doing....
And it may not always be easy, and it may give me 5 grey hairs a month, and be awkward moments when you bump into someone from your past who you cannot remember their name....but you know where every tattoo is....or it can be at that high school reunion when you're the only one that doesn't have a business card to pass out...and the ones you paid to have printed to pass out for free lunch giveaways don't cut it....or the pregnant pause when your mom's telling a story and everyone averts their eyes because its during a time when you were too drunk or high or lazy to come home...except for money and groceries...and you laugh and make a joke at your own expense and break the silence....
It sucks, I ain't gonna lie. Its fucking heart wrenching Oprah's couch story stuff....but its life. And I managed to get a hold of mine and do everything I possibly can to make it better short of winning the lottery or murdering unnamed persons of interest that can make it the best it can be.....
And that's all I desperately want , is the best for my child...I want anything and everything I can and cannot give her, and I will work my fingers to the bone, I will bleed out my soul, heart and spirit in this life and the next to ensure she has a better quality of life, and that she does more with it than I ever did.....I don't want to fast forward 20 years from now and find her exercising her stream of consciousness and creativity and talent as a blog on the Internet that less people have read than the Day Glo Snookie's book....
I want more for her and he doesn't. That's the simple, honest, chauvinistic truth. If she were a boy, he'd want to give him the sun and moon in the form of duck hunting, tractor pulls and football....because she has ovaries and the 50/50 chance of being as much of a cunt as me....and yes I said it because I know what I am and am proud...and besides, it didn't start out as a bad word...
What scares him so much that he continues this charade that he needs or wants her is the possibility she may not need or want him....
Is is that easy to realize that those who bear us, share DNA, whatever, may be our undoing? That sometimes not everyone is willing to die for their children, to maim for their children, to fight for their children...that a lifetime, a person can come undone, break, wasting so much energy caring for someone who can never properly love them back?
I speak from years of experience of daddy drama and can tell you I don't want that for her. Thus I take the road of malcontent, complete with outrageous legal fees, hundreds of miles to Podunk counties of good ole boys, and the slamming of doors with scathing whispers of "i hate you mom" for as long as I have to......because that white picket fence, that little split level home, with 2 parents who give a shit, 2.5 brothers or sisters, the dog in the yard....
I want her to have a COMPLETE and WHOLE home....
But what happens when in the end when we realize we can never go home when we never knew where home really was....except court appointed supervisors, and Jack in the Box parking lots, and car rides after car rides with our bear tucked under our arm, bitter screams of he said, she said and mommy locked in the bathroom sobbing like a mad woman......
Today was hard to swallow and not in a Debbie Does Dallas or the Red Door kinda of way.....its a hot, stinging sensation of humility, pride, despair and the realization that good doesn't always triumph over evil, the hooker doesn't always get Gere, and sometimes the puppy still gets shot in the end....
And I am not fully prepared to digest that or accept it....
so I leave on the note that while defeat came close to kicking my ass today, and it only cost me $599 to avoid it, I have to hold out hope that everything I do, everything I know to be right will someday make a difference, and pray with all my might that he will change...he will see the fucking light at the end of the tunnel...and stop running when he realizes it isn't me trying to mow him down...
....and if it doesn't....well fuck...I am not above beating him with a baseball bat or pouring rotten sour milk in the A/C vents of his car...ok, I am because I don't need a criminal record at my age, and orange is NOT on my color wheel, but you get the gist..
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