Not to say I regret any of it.  There’s something about a man getting drunk and getting in your face screaming at you.  I won’t abide it.  And he knew that.  Strike three and that’s it.  Pack your shit and get out.  But still.  We have the same sort of smoldering anger, and we’re both explosive when we’re angry.  And both alphas, I suppose, so niether one is going to back down when they think they’re right.

Things had been going south for a while, and I suppose these last few weeks have been the deciding factor.  I need him to understand where I’m coming from and the issues that I’m facing, and it just seems that he couldn’t do that.  I’m not complicated.  I just ask for some empathy for the shit I’m going through, like losing a house and all that.  I didn’t do as well as I wanted in the divorce, but I just wanted it finished, so I said fuck it.

I don’t know.  It’s sort of a sad day, but I’m happy that shits at least happening.

I’ve been gone from here for a while.  Nothing really new has been going on.  As of Friday, the divorce was finalized.  I’m officially unattached.  Hooray for me and fuck him.

I’m also in the process of moving seven years of collective crap into a very small storage space.  I also have been given like 5 days to move.  I’ve started moving and shit, but it’s a lot of stuff.  I’m throwing a lot away, but it seems like it’s never ending.  And I know I’m going to be tossing out a lot more once I actually get to where I’m going.

Which right now is my mom’s house.  Yeah.  I’m going to be moving back in with my mom.  With three kids.  It’s going to be epic.  Even more so considering I have to wait until me credit is good enough to get my own place.  I fucking hate my life.  Nothing against my mom, but there’s a reason I got the fuck out of that house as soon as I could.

My dad and I never got along, even now, late.  We can chill and be in the same room and shit, but we’ve never seen eye to eye about anything.  He drives me up the fucking wall.  And it’s going to be worse now that he’s retired.  He’ll be there and awake all the time.  There’s going to be no getting away from them, other than work, and even that’s going to be a trial cause they’re going to want me home at a certain time.

FML.

FML.

FML.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not some spoiled ass kid.  I just got used to living alone.  I hate answering to anyone and I really don’t relish a curfew.  It’s a point of contention that guy and I are fighting over right now.  When I go out for the night, I go out for the night.  I go to the bar and usually close it.  He goes out as well, but there’s the difference between he and I.  I don’t call him and ask what time he’s going to be home.  It’s his night out and I let him have it with no complaints.  But when I go out, my phone means Jessica on demand.  It’s annoying.

So anyway, again, big FML.

I hate this shit.

Seriously.  Tired right down to my bones.  I want to write, but I’m too tired.

Caring about everyone and making sure that all their little pieces are in order is just getting to be a lot.  I have everyone telling me that I need a change, and I just can’t get excited for it.  I don’t need change.  I need a fucking nap.

I’m having some issues with depression.  I know that’s all it is.  I’m sick of living my life for everyone else, leaving nothing there for me.  And the change thing is right and great, but some things just can’t be changed.  I’ve changed too much already.  There’s no fucking room for more change.  I want to move on, but to what?  People think that I’ll just be able to figure everything out, but it’s not that easy when there’s 3 kids that mean the world to me.

Let’s just say that I have a lot of pent up bullshit in my life.  I’m pretty much hating it right now.

I want to sleep.

Just close my fucking eyes and sleep.

I’m on the cusp of breaking up with Guy.  It could go either way.  One thing I really can’t stand is a stalker of kinds.  Checking up on me, calling when I’m out for an hour or so.  Just generally making a nuisance of himself.  It’s bothersome.  I’ve been fine on my own for all this time, I hope I can manage a damn trip to the grocery store without falling into a ditch.  But that’s his reasoning for calling me.  To make sure I’m alright.  5 times in the course of a shopping trip.  So I asked him if he was nervous about something.  I know I’ve had some guys that were douches, but I don’t call him when he goes out to poker night or to the bar with his friends.  I leave him alone, cause I know that’s his time away from the house.

I think I liked ot having a cell phone better.  I think I’m going to start accidentally leaving it at home when I make a trip to the store.

But all that, tied in with the fact that my boss has been majorly hitting on me has me all spun around.  My boss is cool shit.  She’s awesome.  And there’s so many good reasons why us being together would be so awesome.  And then there’s the big fact that I’m total horrible relationship material.  I mean, look at right now.  I’m getting chastized for not calling!  I told her this too.  I’ll forget birthdays, numbers, times.  I’ll be late or I’ll cancel when you’re counting on me.  I’m tied up with my job in the Navy, and my kids.  She’ll be shortchanged nearly all the time.  But it seems to make her want me more.  I don’t get it at all.  Let me make this clear now, cause I just read what I wrote.  This isn’t my boss from the Navy, it’s my boss from the job I have as a chef.

So it’s fucking crazy.

Then there’s all the little shit.  Like trying to find a three bedroom apartment for us to move into if it turns out I can’ keep the house.  I don’t know what’s all going on with that.  I also have been studying for the Petty Officer’s exam that I have to take on Saturday morning that I’m totally scared I’m going to fail.  I’m a wreck right now.

Anyway.

I just need to vent and be done with this test for good.  At least until the next one.

Second, the guy on the right is his birthday present.

Third, I hope he reads this.

Now, I’m actually going to get to the blog.  Let me get out the soapbox, cause this is going to be a doozy of a bloggy.

I know there’s a million words out there floating around, being written, being disseminated.  All about the gay community.  It seems that everyone has their little opinion about it, and alright, I fight for your freedom, so go ahead and have your opinion.  It’s yours.

But there’s a fine line between freedom of opinion and shoving that opinion down people’s throats and making them hear your opinion, loud and fucking clear.  And there’s using that opinion to manipulate people to do things that in your little mind, you think is the right thing and that it should be done.

Apparently when people think their lives are just perfect and ready for a hallmark card, they feel the need to go ahead and stick their little hands into everyone else’s, cause they’re doing so well that they just know exactly how things are supposed to go.

Anyway, I’m so pissed off, I’m going to lay it all out for you, and you all can make your own call on it.

A friend (a very dear one) has basically been told by his sister that he needs to come out and tell his mother that he’s gay.  Now, this is after losing a father and a boyfriend all in one year.  Moving twice.  Getting a new job and about to turn 21.  I told him that he should wait until he was good and ready to do it, and he had already in his head set a date for it.  But his sister gets on facebook and sees his profile.  Instead of minding her own fucking business, she decides that since he’s out to his close friends, he must come out to his mother.  He’s a disgrace, being on facebook and prolaiming himself gay.

So, my favorite video blog is gone, and so is his profile.  I was actually surprised when I saw that it wasn’t there anymore.  I didn’t thik he would take it down, but I’m sure he had his reasons.

So here’s me, speaking out against people who follow their own agendas.  They’re currently in the car for a long duration and I have a suspicion that her sister is going to blab to their mother and leave him to sort out the pieces.  This is something that he really doesn’t need right now.

At any rate.  I love you, baby.  I hope things are going well and that people will surprise you like I said.  And we’re all here for you, just as much family as they are. 

So, here i sit, on the shuttle home from the airport writing this.

I’m also utterly addicted to FML. Seriously. A lot of them piss me off though. There’s a lot of guys who spend a lot of time getting told they’re gay, but they’re adamant that they’re not. Seriously, get rid of the emo hair and fashionably frayed pants and grandma might not think that anymore. I also have an entire rant about people flaming the fat girl FMLs. I’m a former fat girl, and trust me, sometimes it really fucking sucks.

I wanted to tell him so many things, but grief is an odd thing.

I want to tell him to remember everything.  All of it.  The good, the bad, all the silly things.  I want him to know that remembering doesn’t make the pain worse, it keeps you close.

I wanted to tell him that there’s so much more out there.  People, experiences, places.  The loss is an experience, part of the life you have to live.  To appreciate the good, you have to take everything else.  Living numb of grief is also denying yourself other emotions.

He had issue with the Karma aspect of our religion.  He doesn’t understand why horrible things are happening, and I want to tell him that he didn’t do anything wrong or evil to deserve this.  He had the goodness to be his father’s son, and the grace to be close with his friend.  Those good times and love can’t be the product of something evil.

I want to tell him that our religion accepts death in all forms.  It’s a part of us.  Death is insult to no one.  The death of someone close has nothing to do with personal karma.  People are taken from us, sometimes with no reason.  People come and go in this life, but the ones that leave early stay with us the longest.

I most of all want to tell him that while I don’t understand his personal pain, I understand pain.

Instead, I listened to him, cause that’s all I can do for him right now.  This is his, his moment.

I love him, and despite the fact that I’m bitter and grrrr all the time, I try to tell him (and all my close friends) everyday.  Cause tomorrow’s not a promise.

If words were drops of water, I think there’d probably be enough floating around out there to fill the Grand Canyon.  Or even an ocean.  I don’t know.  It’s daunting.  I’m not going up against anyone, it’s being a part of a community, but still there’s nothing more than I’d like to do some days than lie in my bed and hang the whole thing up.

I wish there were more people in my area that had the same interests, maybe I wouldn’t be getting these lost feelings.  I dunno.  I suppose I log on and find a bunch of people with the same ideas, but it’s not the same.  I sign out and I’m all alonsie again.  Yeah, I’ll cut this emo bullshit now.

Maybe this is me giving myself a proverbial pep talk.  I had to wrestle my laptop away from my room mate just cause I felt like writing something.  Now I got down some words and I get this creeping insanity coming up behind me.  I can’t shake the shit.

I dunno.  Does every writer have a monkey like this riding their back?  Is this common place?  This insecurity?  Or am I just projecting all my self doubt into this one endeavor?

I suppose it has yet to be seen.

Yesterday was awesome.  I watched my brother run the Chicago Marathon.  Quite possibly one of the coolest things he’s ever done.  Excaberated the extent of how shitty I feel, but I won’t detract from his moment.

I have a lot of blocked numbers calling my phone lately.  I’ve been ignoring them, trying to get my bills paid and hoping that they’ll stop.  I don’t answer them.  On principle.  If they called from an actual number, I’d have answered it by now.  It like removes a piece of accountability.  I want to know before I answer who’s calling me.  I also hate answering the phone to get a recording that tells me there’s an important phone call coming in.  Really?  If it was so fucking important, why the hell didn’t they call me the first time?  Hang up.  All the way.  Seriously, the best way to make me pay you is by calling and being really nice and guilting me into giving it to you.  Cause if you call and respectfully ask me for the money that I rightly owe you, I will totally go out of my way to make it happen.  I always fully intend to pay my bills, I’m not going to file for bankruptcy or just skip out on them, they will be paid, just sometimes not in as timely a manner as I would like.  Honestly.

Enough of that bullshit cause it just makes me mad to think about it.

I haven’t gotten off the couch in well over 24 hours.  I think I need to get up and go do something soon.  This is the first time in as long as I can remember that I’ve called off work.  I was throwing up, and there was blood in it.  I think if it keeps us, I’m going to have to try to go to the hospital to the emergency room.  I’m panicked though, because I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to pay for it because I’m not entirely sure I’m on my exhusband’s insurance anymore.  And the Navy only covers me if I’m active duty.  There’s not a whole lot of options.  I don’t want to have to be paying a shitload of money.  I can’t afford it.  I’m stressing out, suspecting that it’s an ulcer, and that’s totally not making it better.  On top of that, I think I’m catching the flu or something, cause I ache all over.  And I know that when I go in to get the flu shot that the Navy makes me get, it’s going to make it a lot worse.

I dunno.  There’s nothing I can really do about any of these things, but I keep stressing out about all of them at once.  I want a cup of coffee, but I think it’s going to give me heartburn, and I’m fairly certain that we’re out of milk.  Milk makes it better, i’m sure of it.

I dunno.

I dunno.

Fuck it all.