September 4, 2010 § Leave a comment
Yep. That’s right. I went out with my ex-husband tonight. Well, I guess he’s not TECHNICALLY my ex-husband yet because we haven’t bothered getting a divorce, but still. Anyways, this is actually kind of a normal occurrence. A lot of my friends work funky work schedules and both of us wanted Olive Garden, so we went. He’s pretty much my go-to guy when I need someone to go out with to dinner or drinks because it’s not cool for a chick to go to the bar by herself, although I wish it was.
It was really enjoyable, minus the relatively crappy waitstaff. We mostly talked about football, which isn’t a change from what we talked about when we were together, and I got caught up on the goings-on with the kids and all the baby mama drama. And religion came up, as it seems to be doing quite often lately. I somehow got him back into Catholocism by making him go to midnight mass on Christmas the first year we were dating because I’d never gone and wanted to check it out (plus there wasn’t shit else to do) and now he’s gung ho. Luckily, he’s not one of those preachy types.
It was strange how open I was to talking about it. Usually I shut it out and find something else to pay attention to because I’m rude and he is very long-winded, but I found it interesting. Apparently the Catholic church will shortly be returning to a more “formal” way of doing things, like actually translating the prayers correctly instead of loosely, which is cool. And of course, we had to rip on the “hippie churches” that are all about the he/she/it god and hugging and flautists and stuff. Haha. I guess you could say I’m more of a traditionalist when it comes to Catholic mass.
That’s not really the point of this entry, though. The point is that I’m glad to have my friend back. Marriage fucked it up.
We were never really right for each other and I think we both knew it from day one, but that desperation and “oh hey, this person actually likes me” factor played a huge part in it. We could tolerate each other even though we had next to nothing in common (including not even being born in the same decade; he’s 12 years older) and I wanted to get married and I think his grandparents were hinting along the lines of him settling down, so it just worked. His twin daughters played a role in me sticking around for as long as I did, too, but that’s a convoluted entry for another day.
There were so many fights leading up to the marriage, we were already in couples’ counseling (and not the mandated stuff by the church, either), and we were barely ever in the same room as each other. I know that my mom knew that it wasn’t going to work because she constantly asked me if I was sure that I wanted to do this and I kept insisting that I did even though my heart was screaming “no”.
I don’t regret it, though. You live and you learn. I don’t think I’d be where I am today if it didn’t happen and even though I may feel like offing myself some days, usually due to finances, I’m pretty happy with where I’m at. I’m now in a great relationship, albeit long distance, I have my best friend and her fiance as housemates, and I’m friends with my ex again. Oh, and of course, my super awesome 14 year old puppy.
It’s nice to not have to pretend to make a relationship work. It was taxing and I couldn’t do it any more. We were opposites when we met and it only became more glaringly obvious as time went on and we both developed our own interests. I’m a realist and he’s a dreamer, I prefer to stay rooted in the here and now and he likes dressing up like Dr. Who guys and pretending to be them (super weird, I know). But we get along great as friends. My family and I still get to see the kids, he’s around when I need the dog to get to the vet but have to work, and I think we both enjoy each other’s company now that we can just be ourselves without having to worry about how the other person wants each other to be.
Plus the new guy and I are way more compatible in every way. 😛
September 2, 2010 § 2 Comments
There’s something so comforting about football.
I always hated when my dad wanted to watch football on the weekends as a kid. As a Browns fan living in the Detroit area (he was transferred to Michigan when I was 3), usually my dad was relegated to his bedroom, using a fancy pair of rabbit ears to try and pull in the Browns game off of a Toledo station. But when it was a nationally televised game, the living room TV was all his. We had to either sit quietly and watch or go find something else to do. Being a girl, football was for boys and therefore I wanted no part of it. My sister (eventually sisterS) and I would usually end up outside or being forced to clean our rooms because there wasn’t any way we were going to sit there quietly.
And using the TV on Saturdays? Forget it. Ohio State was on! It didn’t matter that we wanted to go to the park or play a game. If OSU was playing, my dad was inside and my mom was always busy doing laundry or watching my youngest sister or cooking dinner.
But somehow, I still have warm memories of rainy fall days being spent inside reading on the couch while dad watched his games or playing outside in the backyard and getting excited when he came outside after the game. And since the Browns actually won a few back in the day, he was normally in a good mood. 😛 The noise of the crowd in the background, the announcers who always sound the same, the refs calling out the penalties, the unmistakable sound of pads on pads during an especially hard tackle… And of course, my dad’s yelling at the TV when they fumbled or threw an interception and his loud clap and “ALL RIGHT!” chuckle he always did when they made a good play. The back door was usually open too, allowing the crisp breeze to come into the house, taking out the stale air conditioned air and leaving the fresh scent of a new season.
In college, I discovered my own love for football. I was homesick and in Columbus, so there wasn’t anything to do on Saturdays other than watch the game. Plus if I was watching the game, I’d have an excuse to call/text my dad and talk about something not too personal, as always was (and still is) our way.
When I met my ex-husband, I started getting into pro football. He ran a fantasy league with his friends so Sundays were spent watching whichever teams he had the most players on. And again, I was hooked. I joined his fantasy league and have been teaching myself football stats and the intricacies of each team against each team since. While we’re no longer together, we’re still friends and I’m looking forward to his draft this Tuesday. I’ve already done my boyfriend’s draft and while I’m not thrilled with my team, I’ll figure out the kinks after the first week or so. Doesn’t help that the scoring systems are COMPLETELY different…
But anyways. I digress.
It doesn’t matter what football game I turn on. Of course, I prefer the Browns and OSU, but the games are comforting. They remind me of the good ol’ days. Football is one thing my dad and I can bond over, and since I am my father’s child and have taught myself to be rather emotionless and impersonal, especially with him as that’s how I perceived him to be (this is not a bad thing – I know he loved/loves me, but it’s not something that is expressed), football is one thing we can share together without having to share too much.
September 1, 2010 § 4 Comments
It’s kind of funny. I want to take pictures but I have nothing to take pictures of, so everyday items end up becoming the focus of my relatively shitty photography.
My mom bought me these butterflies when I was a teenager who didn’t know what she wanted. While I was living at home, they lived on random pictures and posters in my room. When I moved out, I couldn’t bear to get rid of them, so now they live on my nice Ikea lamp which provides the room with a much nicer, more mellow light than the ceiling light does. And now the very faded purple butterfly is home to the orange ribbon my friends and I all wore at our friend Amber’s funeral two years ago and the “Amber’s Angels” bracelet I bought at her bowling fundraiser this year.
It’s rather appropriate, if you think about it.
I know it’s cliche, but butterflies represent the whole afterlife aspect, providing you believe in pretty much any religion that says there’s life after death. And as cliche as it may be, I like it. So I latch onto it.
There’s so much I want to say, but I don’t know how or even where to begin…
September 1, 2010 § 4 Comments
It’s not that I don’t know what to write, it’s that I don’t know that anyone would want to read what I have to say, so I don’t bother. I’ve always been one of those people who has felt that writing is meant to be read. There isn’t much point to writing just to write. Yeah, I know that isn’t necessarily the case. Maybe I’m just narcissistic. But it feels like wasted effort to write and have nothing come of it.
Then again, this could just be my current mood because it seems like everything I’ve done today has been a wasted effort. I did get a lot done at work, but for the simple results, it feels like a lot of time was spent on something relatively pointless in the whole scheme of things. That’s life, though, I guess.
But on a completely unrelated note, I am feeling the need to clean. I’m sure that it’s partially due to the fact that my boyfriend’s finally coming back into town next weekend and the house desperately needs a thorough de-gunking (it sucks keeping up a house when you’re working 6 days a week with no one around to help), but I think a lot of it is that the seasons are changing and I always feel the need to clean when the seasons change. Granted, you can’t really tell because it’s 90 degrees outside, but I know fall’s around the corner.
Plus cleaning seems almost spiritual. Maybe it’s the OCD in me, but when I clean, I CLEAN. I can spend four hours cleaning my relatively small living room because if you’re not going to do it right, don’t bother doing it. (Thanks for that, dad.) Which is more than likely why I don’t clean as often as I should as well… I know that if I start, I’m going to be occupied with it for the rest of the night. And after working 9 or 10 hour days, the last thing I want to do is get caught in cleaning mode for the next four or five hours.
So I’m thinking maybe this three day weekend will be filled with nothing other than cleaning. I’m a bit too poor to go out and do anything anyways, so it’s probably for the best. I need to get the ex-husband over here to help go through the office, too… I’m tired of having clutter in my house. And unfortunately, he’s a packrat and didn’t take everything when he moved out. :[ Not that I have anything to put in the office… But it’ll be nice to have it cleaned up, nonetheless.
…Pretty sure this entry couldn’t get any more mundane.
August 31, 2010 § 1 Comment
But I feel like writing. What a shame.
I don’t know that it’s necessarily writer’s block, but more just a mess of thoughts that I can’t sort out into anything coherent. It’s a shame, really, because I don’t want to just write about how my day went or politics or polarizing social issues.
I guess I just need one specific thing to focus on, and I can’t find it. Any suggestions?
August 29, 2010 § Leave a comment
August 29, 2010 § Leave a comment
Like most people, most of my best thinking is done in the shower. As is my tendency, I criticized my latest post. And one important topic that I left out is that not all of Detroit’s residents are good people just down on their luck. Some are adverse to working and expect a government handout. And that irritates me.
I don’t work so you can sit around and drink or do drugs. I don’t believe that my taxes should go towards your recreational activities when I stay home most weekends and am behind on my bills because I still don’t make enough money. Stop popping out kids, stop staying up all night and sleeping in, and get a job and make money for yourself. It won’t kill you, I promise. Then you can buy your designer clothes and big screen TVs with your hard-earned money, not mine.
I know, it’s how you’ve grown up. That’s what your parents did, and possibly what your grandparents did too. It’s hard to break the cycle, but it can be done. Why don’t you take pride in yourself? Why don’t you want better for yourselves and for your children?
And to those of you on SSD who CAN work but don’t WANT to, you’re the worst of the lot. Do you know that there are people out there with serious injuries that prevent them from being able to work and support themselves while you’re claiming that you have bipolar disorder and can’t function in society, yet you’re out partying every night and always seem to be at friends’ houses? Do you care?
The law firm I work for represents many people from the inner city, many of whom are on welfare and SSD. While some of them do genuinely need the government assistance, it seems as if many of them don’t. While I don’t know their entire stories, I know enough to know that they could work if they really wanted to. And when you overhear one person telling another that they’re on SSD or welfare because they don’t want to work, it doesn’t help me think otherwise.
I know this is a problem everywhere and not just in Detroit. And while this may seem racist, it’s not. I know plenty of white folk who are doing the same thing. The system is easily manipulated and it seems as if manipulating it is not only tolerated, but encouraged.
Instead of teaching our children how to manipulate the system to get the most out of the government, why don’t we teach them how to read, write, and persevere? Why don’t we teach them the value of hard work and how to take pride in their community? Or is that too much work?