A Gypsy Amongst Puritans

Hey everyone - I started this journal back in 2003, shortly before I asked my husband for a divorce. Now, 9 years later, I again find myself at a new beginning - and to commemorate it - I'm moving on to a new blog.

If you still read me and would like to continue - feel free to add joeywrites dot come to your RSS Feed.

Thanks :)

So my boyfriend and I broke up on Friday.  Well, to be accurate, he turned to me as we had just finished making my bed and said, "Let's sit down.  We need to talk.  This just isn't working for me anymore."

On the one hand, it was not anything I was not planning to say to him already.  He had made it clear a few months ago that he did not want our relationship to progress any farther than it already had - something I probably knew, but didn't want to hear.  But when this first came to light, the thought of losing him just was more than I could bear at the time.  I felt like Scarlett in Gone with the Wind, I was going to think about it tomorrow.  Or at least, after Dragon*Con and the Gala - 2 things we both enjoyed and worked very hard on.

But once the Gala was over - it became a matter of when.  I mean, right after the Gala would make me a bitch.  The 19th was my father's birthday, Thanksgiving was when I broke up with my ex-husband, before the holidays seemed cruel, after the holidays seemed more cruel, the New Year seemed symbolic and Valentine's Day would just be wrong.

So, in reality, it was a relief for him to be the one to bring it up.

But it doesn't mean I'm not battling some bittersweet moments.  There are 4 1/2 years of habits and routines to work past.  Old memories to replace with new ones, old choices to re-examine and think through.

I wasn't prepared to spend the night not in his arms, and to wonder how quickly he would fill his arms with the other woman in the picture. Did he wait an hour? A day? 15 minutes?  Not that it should matter,  I got what I knew was best, but still it did rankle.

And now, the new journey begins.  Taking the next steps towards the happiness I seek. Holding fast to what was good, letting go of the irrelevant, figuring out how to make bacon and guacamole on my own.

I kid.  I have to.  It's who I am, it's what I do.  

I've thought a lot about this livejournal, and I think it may be time to close the doors on it.  I think I need to start fresh and clean.  I want to get back to writing, but for me, not for others.  At least not at first.  Thanks for reading.

So, it is 4:30 AM and I am wide awake.  I can hear the crickets outside, I know that my boyfriend and my foster dog are sound asleep in my bed and my roommate is asleep in another.

And yet here I am.  Yawning, but not really sleepy enough to go back to bed.  I got on the computer because I was determined to do some work on the Gala - but whenever the time comes, I find myself dallying. 

I feel like I should confess a million things - but in truth, I'm not ready to do that yet.  20 more days - than we can talk more - right now, I just need to survive.

I would be a fool to think that life will always be good and perfect.  Those things are just not constant.  I often battle within myself to resist those parts of my mother, my father, my past that cause me to doubt and fear and dwell in uncertainty.  I question a lot of things - wondering what I would think of myself if I could look from the outside, objectively, and see me as me.

I can be a mean person, a cruel person, unkind, uncaring, unabashedly candid and cold.  I get depressed, I get obsessed, I get morbid and bleary.  My mood swings can go up and down and I can wonder constantly.  My brain, my mind, it never stops.

The older I get, the more I wonder if these traits are just inevitable.  If there indeed is some way to escape my fate and avoid becoming a lonely old woman who cares too much and fears too much, judges too much and forgives too much.

Life is short.  I will die.  And when I die, I hope I will have done some good in the world that carries on. 

But no matter what, I have loved and will continue to love until I can love no more.

Happy Father's Day, Paya. Thanks for the wonderful memories.

Posted via LiveJournal.app.

What a crazy week!  Robt and I went to Helen, GA this weekend and had a great time. 
 
We drove back on Sunday and I saw my cousin Terri, who I have not seen in 18+ years. 
 
On Monday, I drove in to work and found out I had to lay off the 16 people for the week, and then my new-to-me PT Cruiser overheated. 
 
Yesterday, I got to call all the people back in to work and found out that the car repair was only going to be about $250, much less than I feared.
 
I finally put my Honda up on Craigslist with full disclosure of the needed repairs and within minutes had a slew of email responses offering cash in hand.
 
This morning I needed to find my Social Security card and had to tear my house apart to get it.  In the process I found my half-written novel, a $10 AMC gift card, 4 DVDs I had bought for the Geek Gala, some old baby pictures of my ex-husband, and finally . . . my social security card!
 
Late, I drove hurriedly down the highway only to be halted by a policeman as a car literally exploded into flames beside me.  The body of the driver was covered in a blanket about 8 feet away.  There was glass and debris everywhere.  Firetrucks surrounded my vehicle, and the woman in the SUV behind me was so panicked she almost crashed my car trying to sneak by the policeman to get away from the explosion.  When they finally let us go, she pulled in front of me and then stopped her car to ask the FedEx driver what happened.  My car and I are both fine.
 
I got to my destination, showed them my SS card and then headed to work.  On my way there, I got a call from the dealership that sold me my vehicle.  They asked how the car was doing, I told them about the cracked housing and coolant leak and they are reimbursing us for the repairs we had to make on Monday.
 
On top of that, I have someone coming to pay cash for my Honda tonight. 
 
And much more but I won't keep you.
 
ZOMG - what a week!

Some people say opinions are like assholes, everyone has one. I disagree. Opinions are like bodily fluids. Sometime it's like your blood, empowering you to life. Sometimes it performs the necessary functions to keep you going. Sometimes it comes from a good place and then goes bad. And sometimes it's just crap, and needs to be flushed out.

I'm not sure why, but it seems to happen every November. I get very antsy and my brain and body are just in hyper mode. I seem to get obsessed. In some ways I feel like a heroin addict looking for a fix. First Im calm and tell myself I'm fine. Then I realize I'm not and I start looking for a solution. And the I can't stop looking and get more and more desperate until I find it. And whether good or bad, it fills the void and the jitter passes. So weird.

Between Robt having to work every other Saturday, and all the activities with the Charlotte Geeks, our weekends always seem hectic. This weekend, for the first time in months, we have nowhere we have to be, and nothing major we have to do. It's wonderful.

So evidently my stepmom has not purchased my dad's headstone. My dad died 7 years ago. I don't get caught up in this stuff. I'd rather have my ashes scattered to the wind. I know it's painful for her.

But now my mom and 3 brothers want to chip in for a headstone. There is no way this is not going to cause drama. I would stay out of it but that isn't going to be easy.

Hate this so much.