Title: Liberation
Hearing: The fan stirring the air in the room; night sounds.
Reading: With Charity Toward None: A Fond Look at Misanthropy,
Florence King
Eating: Papa John's pizza: pepperoni with extra cheese.
Drinking: Coke
Feeling: The cool breeze on my bare legs; full and sleepy.
Who's the queen? Aw jeah -- I am. Don't be jealous. I rule because I got my driver's license back today (FINALLY), after getting it snatched away in March due to an unpaid ticket from last year coming back to haunt me. (No, not the one that landed me my evening with the JeffCo cops last year. I have atoned for that one.) The new license is still lying about my weight (140? me? *cynical laugh*) and I look a bit pudgier than I did the last time I got a license, which was when I got married. There's this cute little mountain-ish background on the new Colorado licenses and a hologram on the bottom so you can't make a fake ID. The whole thing is very... blue.
You can see I'm really on a roll tonight... the eloquence is waxing like crazy, boy.
At least now I can get into Bruff's the next time I go see Cynthia. They won't take my military ID. Bastards.
New News, Etc.:
I suppose an update on me and Ian is in order. Don't worry, this will be short and only slightly painful.
So. I've been moved out for just over two weeks now. I miss the boys and Ian, but I must say, the peace and quiet is amazing. For once, I don't leave chaos (work) and come home to madness (the geek commune). I like it very very much. I have no phone line, which means I don't spend all my waking hours on the 'Net like I used to. This is a change for the better. Instead of drooling at my computer screen til all hours, I'm... well, not having a life, but at least I'm not online. Most of the time I read or play with the cat. The other day I came home from work, threw my backpack down, took off all my clothes and flopped out on my bed under my ceiling fan. Ahhh... bliss.
Ian is in the middle of wooing himself a woman. Yes, indeed. Since we've been separated, he's been talking to a girl online and they're getting rather interested in each other. (I told him it wouldn't be a problem for him to find a girl. Hell, he'd be the ideal husband if I was straight.) It's so cute watching him gush. What's that you ask? Am I jealous? Well... kind of. Let me explain. See, he and the new girl are pretty attracted to each other and they're probably going to do something about it when she visits next week. In the bed he and I used to share, in fact. This causes a little green-eyed monster to raise its head. I feel like a total shit; hell, it's not like I have any claim on him any more, in anything besides name. I don't want to hang on to the boy. He's much better off without me as his wife. Still, I'm enough of a girl to be given pause by him having a girlfriend, I guess.
It's the suddeness of it. In my infinite ego, I thought Ian would be grieving our failed relationship for months or even a couple of years. He's never been the dating type, never really had a serious relationship before me. When we were dating, he had the typical goofy nervousness of a young man uncomfortable with women and the rituals of American dating. (Poor boy... it was so cute.) For so long, I was in agony over my sexuality because I didn't want to destroy his little dream of the white picket fence that he seemed to want so bad. Now it seems he's moving on faster than I am. It's a little disconcerting.
Actually, I'm really glad he's moving on. It's good to see him excited about someone who may actually be able to return his enthusiasm as he deserves. The girl appears to be nice enough, although she can't seem to call when she says she will. It makes me wary of her ability to keep her word. Color me cynical.
If she fucks him over, I'll find a way to make her life miserable.
Oh, I don't mean that. Well, I do and I don't; I'm too soft-hearted to go through with anything. I'm not threatening anyone, so put away your lawyer's number and your righteous e-mails. But dammit, I'm protective of Ian. He's had enough emotional jerking around for one lifetime, and I ought to know. Right now is not a good time to get into little girly head games. I'm watching this one like a vulture perched on a telephone wire. Sue me; I'm over-protective. I was raised a Southern gentleman, you know, so I can't help myself.
Other Than That...
... not much. Bill and I are waiting on Papa John's to get here. Online ordering is your friend.
My class wrapped up today. I now have another Sun t-shirt in my wardrobe and a cute little certificate to hang on my wall. I can tell the class was good, because my brain hurts. I love it.
My lovely and talented girlfriend, who continues to floor me at the most unexpected times, has once again managed to turn what could have been a very bad afternoon into something wonderful with this. Today I had to put down what was left of a crippled friendship, which is never something I enjoy. I won't go into it, because it's a waste of energy, but basically an online friend hurled some rather misogynistic and hateful remarks aimed at Cynthia, who he doesn't know, for no reason whatsoever. Well, other than I didn't "appreciate his sense of humor", which consists of yelling obscenities in a chat room. So he decided to get back at me by getting me where he knew it would piss me off. I was absolutely infuriated. Infuriated, I say. Do not fuck with my friends, especially my best friend. It's the rule.
But after stewing over it for a bit and blowing off steam in the car by cranking up the radio and yelling along, I decided I didn't care. You see, this boy is recently divorced himself. After his wife left him, he went into a downward spiral of alcohol, pot, prescription drugs (Xanax, anyone?), lost his business, moved back in with his parents and hasn't worked a day in several months. Through all this, his 'Net friends put up with his incoherent raving at all hours of the day and night, often bearing the brunt of his pain and rage, and undeservedly at that. As far as we can tell, his life consists of drinking, taking drugs and going to clubs to try and "score some pussy", as he puts it. (Considering he refers to his ex-wife as his former "dick holster", this is not surprising.) Does he have friends that he can really talk to about his failed marriage? I don't know. I hope so. His life is a sad, pathetic wreck; God knows he's going to need the help.
What I realized, especially after reading Cynthia's latest, is how much I truly have, and how thankful I am for it. Jobs, cars, houses -- all that is fine, but I've been poor before; those things are ultimately not that important. What matters is who you love and who loves you. And I am loved, although God only knows why my friends put up with me some days. Between me and my "deviant dyke girlfriend", we have more love than this guy has ever experienced, and it's very likely he will never find that. And that makes me pity him more than anything else. This wreck of a man sneers at me for leaving my marriage -- for the sake of a chance to be with a WOMAN, God forbid. He apparently despises me for that and has called both Cynthia and me names that aren't repeatable here -- and this is me talking, me who curses like a drunken sailor. But his impotent rage dissolves into nothing when I look at her picture and remember how she has changed me, how she looks at me when she thinks I don't see her, the way she tenderly brushes my bangs back from my forehead... and I think, "This is what really matters. You only wish you had what I have, boy."
I'm not gloating. I just shake my head at times like these and wish those who hate me a long life to stew in their own bitterness. It's what they want. As for me, I know who I am and who I love, and I'm perfectly content with it.
Their hatred has no hold over me any more.
-- marcie.