Wow - can this really be happening? TWO posts in three days?? Hasn't happened in like, forever, no? But there it is. I think it may have something to do with sue, a new reader who made me feel really good - but pretty guilty for neglecting "TBOTE." Not that the rest of you haven't of course. But the rest of you are like family, practically, who (no offense) I can kind of shrug off and tell "yeah, yeah, it's coming along" and I know you'll deal with it. But if there are new people out there... Oh, the pressure!!
And I also want to say how happy I am to see my old pals commenting still. Alice - I'm going out on a limb and saying yes, you will probably meet sullen teen this summer. Although you may wish you hadn't. (Just kidding, of course - she really is a great kid - just a typical teenager!) And Ranger Tom and Network Geek - so good to see you both!
Anyway, sue pointed out to me that it has been over a year since I have posted a chapter. And I am actually aware of that. And I know I have been promising and promising... I do have the best intentions - in all honesty, I can't really say why I am so stuck. I mean, hell, I lived it, right? It's not like I don't know what is going to happen next. In fact, I've always known exactly where this book would end - and how it would leave you hanging just enough to want to read the sequel. I know, I know - pretty arrogant to discuss a sequel when I can't even get through the first one, but that has always been my plan. Only one sequel, though, my life got pretty boring pretty quick after I had my daughter. But in a good way - trust me!
I've been really trying to figure out what has been keeping me from not just TBOTE, but from the blog in general. I mean, I used to LOVE to write. When I began this blog, I had to post every day. And I enjoyed it. A lot. I always managed to find the time while working for Satan. However, things have changed. At home, the computer has been hijacked by a tall blonde who says she's my daughter. I am lucky to sneak in for two minutes to check e-mail while she walks the dog. In fact, even now, I am only able to write freely since it is 9 am Saturday morning and she is still sleeping. So if I am struck with an idea, or feel the urge to write at home, I generally have to try to hold onto it until the computer is free. And inevitably, by the time it is, I have either forgotten or lost the impulse.
At work, it is a lot harder to find the time. I mean, I work for the government now, people. You can't slack off when your boss is the President of the United States. Ok, so there may be a number of people who can, but I am not one of them. I really do enjoy my job - collecting money owed to victims of federal crimes from criminal debtors. There is nothing more satisfying than finding a criminal who hasn't paid his restitution in YEARS and garnishing his wages. Or seizing his bank account. And finally giving back to the victim. Awesome stuff. Plus, since my position is within the office of the United States Attorney's office, it has some pretty cool perks - like getting to attend the sentencing hearings of Chicago mobsters James Marcello, Joseph Lombardo, and most recently (and notoriously) Nicholas Calabrese. I love my job. Never thought I'd say it, but I really do. And as such, I am usually too busy making sure to get things done to slack off and write on my blog.
Plus, and maybe I am being paranoid here, there is something else. Logically, it seems ridiculous, since it is still a free country and all... and really, it is probably just some random stranger and not big brother or anything, but still - this kind of freaks me out. I probably shouldn't even write about this in case they are reading this too, but I'm going to anyway. See, I've had statcounter for quite some time now on my blog. To see who's been visiting, what the numbers are - you know. And ever since I started the interview process for my job at the USAO right up to today, someone from Washington, DC has been checking my blog every single day. EVERY DAY. Weird, no? But I mean, really - if they were going to use this against me to get rid of me or anything, I would think there is already plenty of ammo that I've posted. Of course, I have never said anything about the government itself, or my job in detail, or about Obama - but really, I probably wouldn't anyway. I just can't help but wonder what would happen if I did. Would men with dark sunglasses suddenly appear at my desk and escort me into a little room and demand I disable my blog? Would I ever be seen again?? Scary stuff, I tell ya!
Finally, and I've said this before, I got kind of smacked in the face by a roadblock of my own doing regarding more chapters when I decided to contact Kevin. Yes, I haven't written him since I explained to his sister that I was glad he was doing well (despite being in the Illinois Dept of Corrections) but I realized that my curiosity about him was satisfied, and I really didn't think it would be healthy for me to continue communicating with him. Of course, he replied with a pretty nasty letter saying I couldn't just decide to stop writing, that I was just being a big baby and I should suck it up and give him a chance, and that when he got out in August (yes, THIS August) he was going to come find me and prove to me he had changed. Yikes! I asked my friend if I could borrow her husband (who is a big bear of a man) for the day when that happens. I mean, if that happens. Lord know if there's one thing Kevin has always been, it's inconsistent. Consistently inconsistent. Kind of funny, actually. But bringing your past back to the present in a way other than writing about it has a strange affect on a person.
I really think the only way I will get back to the story is if I sit down, re-read the whole thing myself again, and try to really force myself to churn it out. It's ridiculous, really, this shouldn't be such a chore. But it has become one, and I really don't like that feeling. It used to be a catharsis, and I really used to enjoy knowing that other people liked my writing. And it also made me really feel that my dream of being a published author was a possibility - not just a fantasy. I'm not going to sit here and make more promises, you all know me well enough by now to know that although I really mean every word of them, I just don't want to lead you all on. You know the reasons and what I want to do, just know that someday it will be done.
Oh, and? After my last post I had a nice chat with my cousin for an hour, the wine helped me sleep, and although I still do have those feelings, I felt MUCH better in the morning. A bit tired, perhaps, but emotionally better. In case you cared. About a drunken dasi, I mean. Ok, best get going so my darling has the computer warmed up and ready for her when she wakes up. Until later, then!
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Fuzzy Observations
Wow - it's been a long time since I posted something while somewhat - er- "under the influence." And the funny thing is, it was only to watch the finale of "ER" and unwind. But somehow I found myself bawling like a baby at practically every scene -including the "pre-show" interview special.
But in my defense, there was really valid reason for my reactions. ER always has very moving storylines that hit home. Tonight was no exception. They had one that involved a 17-year old with alcohol poisoning. Who was playing "I Never." And won. First of all, I used to play "I Never." I usually didn't win, because by the time I would be able to drink at every statement, I was too old to really play the game anymore. But this girl won. And nearly died. I couldn't help but look at Lexie and say "PLEASE promise me..." to which she sneered, "MOM - I wouldn't!" Of course, if I were to go by her MySpace posts, I would know that she has already at least TRIED alcohol. Which scares the hell out of me because I always thought I would be the cool mom who knew everything, who my daughter would always talk to. And she isn't. Instead, I find things out by sneaking onto her MySpace web page. And I don't want her to wind up like me. I don't want her to drink to be cool, to do drugs because her boyfriend does, to escape because she is uncomfortable in her own skin. I always thought I would be the cool mom, the one who she told EVERYTHING to - but alas, it seems I was way off.
My daughter will ALWAYS think of me as the enemy, the "old" person, the one who "doesn't know anything." And GOD, I wish she knew. I wish she knew all the hell I went through in high school, the suicide attempt in college, the ridiculous number of guys I slept with in college and beyond to prove I was WORTH something.... the hopelessness I felt while using, the shame and fear I felt after being raped, the inadequacy I STILL feel on a daily basis, no matter how succcessful or mature or old I become.
I am TERRIFIED that no matter what I do, my daughter will wind up going down the same path I did - and all I will be able to do is watch helplessly. I have nightmares that my little girl will suffer and hurt and cry as much as I did for so many years - and that she will cut herself off from me and isolate herself as I did. I know she is only 13, I know I didn't get into anything until my 20's - but what if I did it?? What if I gave her the gene to make her like I was? What if it kicks in early? What then????
I am scared, and alone, and all I do is work my ass off and make money and be strict with my daughter and watch tv and sleep... I have no time for me, or for fun, or for a significant other... and you know what? It really sucks. I HATE being 40 and and alone and so damn tired. I hate that every waking minute I am either working or bitching at my daughter. I hate bitching at my daughter - but all that is, really, is a manifestation of my fear. My fear that I am not a good enough mother, that I am not there enough, that I am not involved enough to make a real difference in my daughter's life. That I will let her down, like I let down my father, and mother, and brother, and hell - everyone who has ever been close to me.
And then there was the backstory on ER about the couple who had been together for 72 years - and the wife was dying. One word - Poppops. I think I pretty much manage to convince myself that he's still around... it's only when I really think about it that it hits me - he's gone. Oh, shit, this sucks. Now I remember why I don't drink. Because it brings to light everything about my life that I try to ignore when I am sober.
Like that fact that I am a loser. And I do a pathetic job of pretending I am still young and hot and cool (see that? Is "cool" even an acceptable term nowadays?). And although I am desperately lonely - I would rather leave people guessing as to my sexualuty due to my lack of relationships that make any kind of effort to find the man of my dreams (yes, man, that part of my life is not in question). I don't know. I really don't. I wish I did - it would make thing so much easier.
All I do know is that I am probably one of the better actresses in this country - only I waste my talent working for the US Attorney's office. Because I have everyone convinced I am this amazing, strong woman who has this awesome life. Yeah. That's me.
How about we go out for a drink? After a few, you may take off those rose-colored glasses.
But in my defense, there was really valid reason for my reactions. ER always has very moving storylines that hit home. Tonight was no exception. They had one that involved a 17-year old with alcohol poisoning. Who was playing "I Never." And won. First of all, I used to play "I Never." I usually didn't win, because by the time I would be able to drink at every statement, I was too old to really play the game anymore. But this girl won. And nearly died. I couldn't help but look at Lexie and say "PLEASE promise me..." to which she sneered, "MOM - I wouldn't!" Of course, if I were to go by her MySpace posts, I would know that she has already at least TRIED alcohol. Which scares the hell out of me because I always thought I would be the cool mom who knew everything, who my daughter would always talk to. And she isn't. Instead, I find things out by sneaking onto her MySpace web page. And I don't want her to wind up like me. I don't want her to drink to be cool, to do drugs because her boyfriend does, to escape because she is uncomfortable in her own skin. I always thought I would be the cool mom, the one who she told EVERYTHING to - but alas, it seems I was way off.
My daughter will ALWAYS think of me as the enemy, the "old" person, the one who "doesn't know anything." And GOD, I wish she knew. I wish she knew all the hell I went through in high school, the suicide attempt in college, the ridiculous number of guys I slept with in college and beyond to prove I was WORTH something.... the hopelessness I felt while using, the shame and fear I felt after being raped, the inadequacy I STILL feel on a daily basis, no matter how succcessful or mature or old I become.
I am TERRIFIED that no matter what I do, my daughter will wind up going down the same path I did - and all I will be able to do is watch helplessly. I have nightmares that my little girl will suffer and hurt and cry as much as I did for so many years - and that she will cut herself off from me and isolate herself as I did. I know she is only 13, I know I didn't get into anything until my 20's - but what if I did it?? What if I gave her the gene to make her like I was? What if it kicks in early? What then????
I am scared, and alone, and all I do is work my ass off and make money and be strict with my daughter and watch tv and sleep... I have no time for me, or for fun, or for a significant other... and you know what? It really sucks. I HATE being 40 and and alone and so damn tired. I hate that every waking minute I am either working or bitching at my daughter. I hate bitching at my daughter - but all that is, really, is a manifestation of my fear. My fear that I am not a good enough mother, that I am not there enough, that I am not involved enough to make a real difference in my daughter's life. That I will let her down, like I let down my father, and mother, and brother, and hell - everyone who has ever been close to me.
And then there was the backstory on ER about the couple who had been together for 72 years - and the wife was dying. One word - Poppops. I think I pretty much manage to convince myself that he's still around... it's only when I really think about it that it hits me - he's gone. Oh, shit, this sucks. Now I remember why I don't drink. Because it brings to light everything about my life that I try to ignore when I am sober.
Like that fact that I am a loser. And I do a pathetic job of pretending I am still young and hot and cool (see that? Is "cool" even an acceptable term nowadays?). And although I am desperately lonely - I would rather leave people guessing as to my sexualuty due to my lack of relationships that make any kind of effort to find the man of my dreams (yes, man, that part of my life is not in question). I don't know. I really don't. I wish I did - it would make thing so much easier.
All I do know is that I am probably one of the better actresses in this country - only I waste my talent working for the US Attorney's office. Because I have everyone convinced I am this amazing, strong woman who has this awesome life. Yeah. That's me.
How about we go out for a drink? After a few, you may take off those rose-colored glasses.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)