Cole,
7/28/14:
Hola
a todos!
Another
interesting and not entirely uneventful week has passed, and I have to admit, I
am incredibly grateful for where I am in life, even if not everything in my
life is quite where I want it to be (yet). I know I have written about this before, about how more
often than not it seems easier to bitch than to be grateful and thankful for
the things we do have. I know I’m guilty of complaining a lot,
especially on this blog, that is mostly about relationships but is also about
life in general. I lament on and
on about the things I want and don’t have, but very rarely do I express how
grateful I am to have the things that I do, and to have the people I call friends in my
life. So this post is going to be
about singing praise about the things that I do have and the things in my life
I am grateful for as apposed to the things that aren’t going so well in my
life. True, there may be a bit of
bitching at the end, to let off some steam and to vent, but maybe not. Primarily, I want this post to be
positive, so I guess I’ll just start writing and see where things end up.
Primarily,
I am happy to announce that I have landed a job that I know I am going to
love. It isn’t necessarily
permanent, though it could be, and my first day is August 15th. I get to work at this amazing little
boutique winery, that grows all it’s own grapes, is super green, and when I
went in to interview, I just had the most amazing conversations with both the wine
makers, I felt totally welcomed and accepted, and I was so incredibly happy and
excited at the prospect of being hired throughout the entire interview process
that I simply could not wipe this gigantic smile off my face! It especially tickled me that the main
winemaker expressed extreme respect for my “colorful” and incredibly
interesting and varied resume. I
was on pins and needles waiting to hear back, and when I did, and I was offered
the job, I could not contain my gratitude! I was hired on mostly for my forklift experience, but am
happy to know that I will be a part of the entire wine making process! There will be a lot of overtime, and it
will most likely be six days a week for at least a couple of months, but I’m
used to outage hours from the nuke plant, and besides that, these people seem
like people I could be life long friends with! The fifteenth of August cannot get here soon enough!
Even
if this winery doesn’t keep me on after harvest, working there, and learning
more about wine than I already know, can totally help me get my foot in the
door of an industry where I would like my new career path to go. The possibilities are endless, and I
was also thinking that even if I don’t get hired on full time, I could work
harvest in a part of the world that has opposite seasons, like Chile, for
example, and continue traveling and working and doing something that I
love! I already speak Spanish, so
I feel that this possibility is entirely possible, even probable, and just
thinking about that alone has me giddy as a schoolgirl! I’ve always been sort of a gypsy
anyway, a bit of an expatriate, a transient, a vagabond, a ramblin’ woman,
whatever you want to call it. I
don’t really have any roots planted, just to my friends and my dog, and the
idea of picking up and taking off again, to live in yet another foreign country
seems so enticing and delicious to me!
I’m the happiest I’ve been in a really long time…
So,
the job portion of my post of gratitude is covered. Hopefully working all those hours won’t get in the way of me
continuing to write posts, but I can’t stress about that right now. Marge will keep any blog follower
gainfully amused, and then once I’m done with my “outage” like schedule, Marge
will go into a nuclear outage, and I’ll need to pick up the slack for her. That’s just one of many reasons we work
so well together as friends and partners in crime. We are always there to love one another, support one another
(and our crazy shenanigans) and to pick up the other’s slack when something is
off or amiss with one of us. She
probably won’t be too thrilled if I decide to peace out for a few months in
South America, but maybe by then we will have won the lottery, or else come up
with a genius business plan so that we can go together, with our dogs. One day at a time, I suppose…
So… What else do I have to be grateful
for? So many things, how can I
possibly list them all? I can’t,
but I can hit the highlight reel and try to do justice to all the beauty I have
in my life.
Aside
from not quite yet being gainfully employed (the clock cannot tick down fast
enough!), everything in my life is pretty great. Mostly because of my amazing friends (Marge ESPECIALLY, and
she knows it! She knows she’s a
badass friend!), so I suppose I’ll continue on down that vein.
On
Saturday July 26th Marge threw another “girl party”. This one was not big. It was just a handful of badass,
intelligent, hilarious women, some of whom, without naming any names, because
we don’t do that here, have the tendency to get me to let loose more than I
already do and get me into “trouble”.
Nothing bad, just, perhaps, drinking more than I should, and reminding
me how beautiful life is, especially surrounded by such an awesome group of
freethinking women.
I
awoke around ten AM. I had been up
late, throwing back beer and whiskey with a newly acquired landscape friend on
Marge’s back porch, so my brain was a little fuzzy, but we quickly started
banging out the to do list before the first of our guests arrived. Marge had been awake since probably
about five that morning, but let’s not split hairs. Her capacity to go off zero sleep is much greater than
mine! A few chores and few beers
into the day, I was feeling much better, and my attitude, humor, and sense of
well being quickly began to dissipate as did my headache and hangover.
Since
what happens at Marge’s stays at Marge’s, I’ll say that the evening passed
beautifully, aside from a few snags.
Marge did drop her brick of a flip phone into the kiddy pool, but it was
successfully resuscitated, and I am happy to report that it is fully functional
yet again! That day was fucking
amazing though! I must have been
partying for twelve straight hours, passed out in my bed fully clothed with a
half full beer on my night stand, and awoke to a text from one of my
girlfriends saying she left her pair of panties that she for some reason felt
like shedding somewhere around the house or backyard. Oh yeah. We get
wild! LMAO!
Fast
forward to the next day, a Sunday.
A very dear friend of mine is coming up to drop by for an hour or
two. This is a friend who, when I
lived in SLO, I saw almost every day.
Now that I live in north county and money is tight for me these days,
not to mention the fact that I loooooooove to drink but refuse to drink and
drive, we very rarely see each other anymore. Marge had mentioned that she wanted to go to Pismo to see
this awesome band that we love, but I didn’t know that she wanted me to go, and
I had already made plans to see my Dear Friend, and was not about to cancel,
since it had been months since we had seen each other.
The
band was set to start at three. I
don’t think Marge wanted to leave any later than two. We like to arrive early, to get a seat so that we can
actually watch the band. They
really are fucking amazing! My
company left at about two-thirty.
I asked her if she still wanted to go. We were both feeling pretty “greasy”, un-showered, we were
already going to get there late, and I for sure was still hungover from the
previous day’s festivities. In the
end, we decided “fuck it!”, and also, our current motto: “zero fucks!” We didn’t care if we smelt like shit,
looked like shit, and also probably felt like shit, we were not going to miss
this band! We weren’t going to
impress anyone anyway. We just
wanted to listen to some really great live music. So we decided to get ready in a flash and just go. Marge at least washed her face. I didn’t. I just threw on a pair of jeans, downed a vodka tonic
(courtesy leftover from the previous day’s party) and off we went! Freak flag waving, zero fucks given,
gross, greasy, un-showered and completely unapologetic. That’s just the way we roll!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-gCr1eCGfkI
The
band was as awesome as ever! A few
of Marge’s friends were already there, and Amyless rolled up right at the same
time we did. I brought a flask
full of Jameson Irish whiskey.
Yes, I am a bit cash poor these days, so in addition to the beers and
vodka tonic I downed before/on the way in, I knew Marge, being the angelic
demon that she is, would buy me one beer, I could afford one beer, but I would
need to supplement my alcohol in a much more affordable manner. Besides, I never show up anywhere
unprepared! Come break time, I’m
sharing my flask with the band.
They recognized Marge and I from previous shows, and they are super
friendly, gregarious, awesome dudes who also love to drink Jameson. They always say hello to Marge and I
when they see us, and so sharing my flask with them was something new to me, it didn't seem out of the ordinary.
Besides, once the drummer knew my flask had run dry he bought me a hefty
shot as soon as were back inside.
Is there any wonder we like this band so much? Aside from their incredible playing skills, they also have
manners! And they are super fun
and interesting to smoke a ciggie and shoot the shit with, in-between
songs.
I
could go on for days, but I won't. Long story short, once the band
finished playing, and Marge, myself, and the band were chatting it up outside,
the drummer and lead singer and guitarist invited us to have dinner with them
at the café across the street. Of
course we said yes! Why wouldn’t
we? I’ve never been one to turn
down a free meal, the dudes are freaking awesome, and Marge is really trying to
promote them, because they are so fucking talented, and we were eager to sit
down with them over a meal.
I
must admit, I was kind of smashed.
I mostly just cared about my burger, onion rings and beer, also the
conversation, but I was not as coherent as Marge was. I think I was just stoked that we got invited out by the
band!
I mean, how rad is that!?
At the end of the night, we parted ways amiably, and we look forward to
seeing them play again this Friday at the Pour House in Paso Robles. Anyone interested in listening to some great music and shooting the shit with Marge and I should most certainly
go! We will have a blast with or
without you, but you owe it to yourself to check them out at some point. Their skills are amazing, and we don’t
even know them "personally"! ;)
The
following day, a Monday, I wake up hungover. Is anyone surprised by this? I think not…
In
any case, my name is on the hot list for the temp agency, and I am fully
functional and capable to work, should that magical call arrive. The day passes without work, however, I
do get the pleasure of being visited by two very good friends, in addition to
living with the best friend ever!
I already had plans to throw a few beers back with one of my newest,
most favorite friends, one of my landscaper buddies who is trying to get me
hired on at the new place where he works, and my dear “old” (meaning not old as
a person, old as in we have been friends for years) friends, Mother Hen. It wasn’t difficult to juggle the two
at the same time. Both are
intelligent, have nice vocabularies, are intuitive, gracious, unselfish, and
didn’t want to step on anyone else’s toes. We got along famously together, drank beer, smoked
cigarettes, and chatted “lightly” about things that only people who don’t have
any sort of agenda can chat about.
Four
days were spent with amazing people, doing exactly the kind of thing I like to
do: Have fun, throw a few drinks
back, smoke, eat, and have wonderful, fulfilling, enlightening conversations
with people I care about. Aside
from reading, what more could a person really ask for? And there was plenty of reading
going on as well. As a matter of
fact, I had just finished reading Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy, though
technically I finished that on the night of Wednesday, July 23rd,
and then began reading Moravagine, by Blaise Cendrars.
That
Wednesday was a great day. I
already knew I had been hired at the winery I will be working at for harvest,
and if that wasn’t enough to be grateful for, I had another interview at
another winery. I can’t deny that
I felt a bit conflicted, going to this other interview, at a winery that didn’t
inspire me, knowing that I already had a job lined up and was thrilled about,
but I knew I needed to keep my options open. I went to this other interview, it went great, and then I
came home and cracked open a beer.
Even though I didn’t want this latest job that was offered to me, it was
nice to know it was there, and that I have somehow become “hireable”
again. After months of all around
shit and not finding a good job, let alone a job I would love, it was great to
feel again that sensation of being coveted and desired (more about this later,
because it isn’t just with jobs that a woman, or person in general, enjoys
feeling this sensation…).
I
had a couple of beers, and then showered and crawled into bed with my
puppy. I had about 75 or so pages
left of Anna Karenina, and I was eager to finish the book. Not to get it over with, but because I
was so sucked into it that I was having difficulty setting it down and walking
away. At around 6:30 I got a text
from rapist, asking me to come over.
I ignored it. I was busy
reading. An hour later, I got
this, and this was our ensuing exchange:
Rapist:
“Will you please come see me tonight?”
Me:
“I cannot.”
Rapist: “Why not????”
Rapist: “Please!!!”
Me: “I don’t feel like it. It’s already late and I have to work in
the morning.”
Rapist: “I’m not even home yet!!! Please!! I’ll buy you dinner and IPA’s!”
Me: “No. I’m not going to risk a DUI because last minute you decided
you could fit me into your schedule. I’d rather finish my book with my dog and
get a good night’s sleep.”
Rapist: “I asked you an hour and a half ago!!”
Rapist: “Before I went to the gym”
After
that I turned my phone off. I was
busy reading and did not feel like being disturbed. I didn’t hear from him for two days after that, nor did I
feel like contacting him for being such a bitch boy, and I was so over our
entire situation that by Friday night, I decided to do something about it. Was I pissed? I don’t know.
Sort of, I guess, but mostly I was just over it. I was growing indifferent. I just didn’t care enough anymore to
care. Our relationship was
exhausting me! Too much strife,
and not enough gratification. How
does the saying go?: All work and
no play makes Jim a dull boy?
Something like that. That
was how I was feeling at the time.
Too much work. Not enough
play. A relationship should not
feel like work ALL the time, and so I decided that I wasn’t happy and I was
finally going to do something about it.
As another saying goes; love is like a fart. If you have to force it, it’s probably shit…
Knowing
my lack of conviction when it comes to standing up to the Rapist, I decided to
take a somewhat reckless but efficient approach. I blocked him.
I
blocked his phone number from my cell, so he cannot call or text me, and I
blocked him from emailing me as well.
I am so done with his
pathetic, insecure, bullshit, his empty promises, his manipulation tactics, and
his saying that we will go out and do fun things that we never end up doing, so
I blocked him. I will no longer
even allow myself to hear from him.
He is cut off. Pretty
straight forward. Pretty fool
proof.
http://youtu.be/1Ejr3nLXglQ
This
is the last thing I am grateful for, as far as this post is concerned. I am happy and grateful for having the courage
to stand up for myself. Love is no
longer enough. The bullshit
outweighs the love. Some people
might call me a coward for not telling him outright, but that would have done
me no good. I have tried to break
up with him several times, and every time he talks me out of it. Cutting him off entirely saves me a ton
of time. I don’t have to worry
about feeding into his bullshit, and I get to spend all my time with my
friends, remembering who I am as a person, and loving life without having to
deal with his insecurities, cowardice, or words that sound beautiful but in
reality mean nothing. I don’t have
the time or energy to deal with his bitchiness. I deserve more respect from a lover, and so I will find it
with someone else. Until that
person comes along, I’ll be reading in bed with my puppy and a glass of red
wine. It’s heavenly!
Before
I decided to block him outright, I did a lot of thinking about where our
relationship went wrong. There
were a lot of red flags and factors that added up and made me decided that my
best course of action was to just cut him out of my life. One thing that stood out to me is that
his world is too small and emaciated for my world. His world consists of narrow-minded nuclear power plant
friends who probably don’t even respect him anyway. He lets other people’s opinions weigh too much on the
personal choices and decisions he makes for himself. He needs his seemingly-perfect, immaculate, OCD bullshit
little sanctuary of a house in Los Osos, and I need freedom, adventures, great
friends, and a life that is still undecided and continues to grow, undulate,
expand, wax, and spontaneously combust!
His world and my world cannot co-exist.
He
needs safety, reality, security, certainty, and probably more than anything, a
woman he can feel “safe” with. He
is used to being with “safe” women.
His life requires white picket fences, artificial butter, and the security
that that type of life entails. He
could only ever chase the dragon with me.
I am the high manufactured by the drug he is too timid to take. He could never acquire me, because he’s
too cowardice to close his eyes and take the leap, and admit to people that he
loves me. I cannot live my life in
that manner and I cannot be with someone who isn’t brave enough to own up to
his life choices. I don’t need
anyone’s approval. I do what is
best for me no matter what. I
don’t care what people think of my lifestyle because all that matters is that my
lifestyle makes me happy. You
can’t please everyone. Once you
decide to live your life a certain way you better own that shit, middle finger
out, and not give a fuck what anyone else thinks! Zero fucks!
http://youtu.be/H-Yihs6S0Ac
I
do not require a safety net. I
understand that 30 is not young, but it isn’t old either. In my world, no age is technically old,
it’s all a matter of perspective and personality. But the Rapist is old in a way that cannot be changed. His work life defines him. He is shackled to a life that, while it
may not thrill him, he cannot live without. I cannot live my life like that. There is still so much I want to accomplish! My world is bigger than his world, and
therefore, he and I cannot be. I
have no respect for his fear of judgement, and since I can no longer respect
him, I have decided to block him.
We have no business being together. I cannot respect a coward. From here on out we go separate ways.
Yes,
I want to throw a coconut at his face to wake him the fuck up!
I really just don't know what happened. We were doing great before April. Now things are just shitty and wrong. What happened to the guy who thought I was a badass, the guy who said if there were a war, he would want to fight with me because I would murder everyone, he would just feel bad weighing me down for having to carry his ass? What happened to the guy who never wanted me to leave his house to go home? What happened to the guy who would call me on road trips, or put me on speaker phone so he could talk to me while he was eating at home alone? What happened to the guy who made me feel loved, respected, adored, desired, and coveted? That man is gone, and what's left of him is an ashy skeleton of who he once was. The man has been replaced with a selfish, cowardice little boy who doesn't want to share his toys. I wish I could understand, but I simply cannot. Everyone has a breaking point. EVERYONE! I have reached mine, and so now:
While this current state of being may not be easy, it isn’t too terribly difficult either. I did do a little of what Wednesday Addams refers to as “emotional cutting”. I read through some of the emails he sent me, about a year ago, when we used to crave contact with each other and were always writing letters to each other. I still pick up my phone from time to time and look at photos of him, but I’m doing better and sometimes will go days without “cutting”. Of course I am still in love with him. And though I have come to the conclusion that love isn’t enough for me anymore, I have come up with other ways to ease the process of the emotional equivalent to cutting off a limb. Primarily, when I feel a moment of weakness setting in, I listen to the new playlist I set up on my i-pod. It’s all metal and punk rock. Totally relevant to my current state of mind. It’s upbeat, it’s energizing, it's crude, and it’s a proverbial middle finger to society and to the ridiculously non-functional, and toxic relationship I had going with the Rapist.
So,
I am grateful for a lot of things, but right now, I’m grateful to have the
Rapist out of my life. His ego is
too inflated for his own reality, let alone mine. Things were never the same between us after shit hit the fan
in April, everyone (relevant, more importantly, his co-workers who he could not
look in the eye and admit he loved me to, and less relevant, perhaps he read my
posts and could not stomach some of the things he read. Long story short, he is not man enough
to own up to the fact that he loves me, so he has lost me. Indifference is the true killer, and
the fact that I no longer wake up with anxiety or lose sleep over him speaks
volumes) found out about us, and he was not man enough to face judgment. Pity. I would have done anything for him. Now, I find myself yawning. Such is life. Perhaps in trying to keep me intrigued, in love, and in a
constant state of ambiguous agitation, by behaving like a dick, he achieved the
exact opposite and he pushed me away.
I will never know. All I
know now is that I am glad to spend my nights alone, reading in bed with my
puppy, and if I am not in bed alone, I am out gallivanting with great friends,
or else staying in and conversing, exchanging ideas, trading theories, or
conspiring my next adventure. One
never really knows where I might be these days, but one thing I can say for
sure, is that I won’t be in bed stressing over the Rapist anymore. That ship has sailed, and each night, I
send a little flaming arrow toward it, hoping to set it on fire and sink it
forever…
