This is what I do

Last night I went to Taft St. Coffee house to hear some poetry from the local poet's scene. It was amazing! I have been a part of another poet's group that meets every month for the past three years. While I have learned a great deal from that group and we have formed a bond it was refreshing to go out and hear other voices. I was particulary impressed with a young group of poets who call their group Meta-Four. They are talented, fresh, and speak directly from the heart. Sometimes I think the world of writers is such a lonely one and we hole up in our rooms writing our poems and it gets frustrating when the words just won't form a cohesive flow. I know I sometimes feel my poetry is forced. But these energetic young people have that spark that comes from youth and their experiences. It's great. I enjoyed myself and they just serve as inspiration to keep doing what I do.

What do you do?

I have been teaching for the better part of a decade. Now I am without a job. The teaching crisis is at its full peak. Our law-makers consider education the last priority and have decided it's okay to fire teachers and cram more students into a classroom. So I am facing unemployment, general anxiety about the future, and a sense of floundering. What else can I do? I am a teacher. I love being a teacher. Maybe it's time to focus my energies on other things.

Has it been that long?

I stayed away too long. I have no real excuse only to say I had other committments I needed to take care of that took priority. Anyways, I am back. Although, I warn you I may disappear again. I attended an art show yesterday. I missed it. God, I didn't know how much I missed it until I was there among the artists and in their studios. I used to be married to an artist and we attended art shows every week. Ten years I did the dutiful wife thing and stood by my artist husband and attended all his openings, his friends' openings, the open studios arts' day, etc...Then we divorced I closed myself off from the art scence for another ten years. Yesterday I got a taste for the life again. I can't live without poetry, art, or music in my life. It is something that resides deep within me and I have to free the creative mind in order to get on with my life.

I Am A Red Satin Shoe (8/9/07;wp)

I really like this one. It was an exercise during the writing academy over the summer where we all had to pick a shoe from a table and pretend to be that shoe. Of course everyone should know which one I zeroed in on.

Oh yeah, Saturday night. I wonder what dance floor it'll be tonight? Hopefully a better surface than last week's slumming disaster. Honestly what was she thinking dragging our well-respected 2-inch heels into Lola's? I thought she'd outgrown that purple-fenced sleazy dive 15 years ago. But noooo, there we were walking over cracked cement floors and resting our dainty thin-skinned feet against the graffitied bar. She was looking around the place scoping out the tattoos, long-tailed jeans wearing tight-assed muscle boys. Okay so maybe Lola's isn't bad in a pinch but still we've come a long way. While she was training her eagle eyes on the merchandise some steel-toed, seen better days pair of Doc Martens tried to cozy up to me. I stubbornly kept my pointed red toes facing the bar. I think I actually read "The time is nigh. Repent! Repent!" How did that get written down there? And I didn't know Doc Martens knew the word "nigh". Thankfully we left Lola's intact after almost getting a beer bottle smashed across our delicate satins.
Oh, she's getting the red sleeveless dress that goes so well with our red satin finish and sparkly studded ankle straps. Oh, I know where we're going.

Poetry forms (9/15/07;wp)

I start out with words never ideas. The ideas come from the words. Sometimes the ideas bubble and ferment but never get made into wine. Time to make the wine.
Time
Wine
Tine
Wime

God, I am tired. Hungover. Achy. Jumped up and danced on a bar last night then fell down. The sweet, mechanical engineering master's degreed dark-skinned boy helped me up off the floor. Precious boys. Sweet young boys. I want to rub their arms and chests and stomachs.

Okay back to poetry forms. Sometimes I write ragged lines. I imagine lines with the edges torn off. My mind wanders. Let's see...green shirt that says "Books Rule" on it. What about "Book Rules"? He has a large nose. Brown hair with ragged lines cut in the back making it wavy and upturned. He wears glasses. White skin. Looks like pure white dough before it's kneaded and baked when the dusty white flour still coats it. On his arms the dark hair stands out.

No, no, no! Images of my ex-lover are creeping in. The old desire, the desire for his long hairy body. No! I hate him now. I despise him. He of the low brain, low class, and even lower tastes.

I'm rambling again. I'm hot and hungover sitting in a poetry class learning all my sonnets again. Sunbrained. HA! Just came up with that one.

The Beach House (9/16/07;wp)

I'm back in the same beach house as last year with my friends and their children. The early morning sun makes my eyes squint; forehead furrow. A shrimp boat out on the glass-surfaced water reflecting the sun, the boat like a painting found in the seashell souvenir shops along The Strand. I listen to the waves. They're saying "We rise and fall but it's more than that. We move through wind, get caught up in the currents, carried along, our liquid selves meshing with the air. We fold up and over and head for the shore. We want to come ashore and spread out over the sand. We're in constant motion not stopping even for a day."

I do enjoy my coffee. Not with milk though but there's nothing for it. No creamer of any kind in this beach house. Kids slathered in sunscreen. A kitchen full of food I can't eat. But it's so worth it because my friends' husbands tell me I look great. So I think giving up all the food I like to eat to get a spectacular body is well worth the sacrifice. Hmm...maybe that's what my sonnet should be about. All the food I love but can no longer have.

Cheese: Gouda, Parmesan, asiago, bleu, all the rank smelly cheeses out at Central Market

Bread: Big, doughy, loaves soaked in olive oil mixed with spices

Crackers: Ritz, Saltines, Wheat Thins, Goldfish, Cheeze Nips, Triscuits with slices of ham, Colby Jack cheese, and olives with garlic in the pits

Chips: Pringles, the whole can, sour cream 'n' onion, bbq, salt & vinegar, habanero, jalapeno, so much salt on my tongue, splitting it open with fissures like the earth after an earthquake, my lips cracking apart, not bleeding only because I saturate them in lip balm

Eggs I can eat but not the way Johnny is eating them, baked in a dish with cheese, cream, sausage, and picante sauce smothering the top. Ah, I miss all that heavy food but heavy on the outside turns me heavy inside and out. The salt fills my cells and makes them expand pushing out all ridges, rolls, and my flesh hangs and jiggles. But with light food my body becomes light. The flesh shrinking, the curves becoming rounded, and soft. Not bulging and bulky.

Cake: dough turned black with chocolate and the sugar icing coating the top

Cookies: chocolate chip, macadamia nut, snicker doodle, cinnamon

Pie: cherry, apple, blueberry, lattice pies with that delicious crust

Nuts: pistachios, pecans, almonds, peanuts, cashews, especially peanuts in a bowl with Tabasco sauce and lemon juice. Eating the whole bowl, my lips, tongue, and throat on fire. If I let that happen then the oils in the peanuts would act like a catalyst to produce the oils in my face. Bursting, like tiny oil wells, all the acne ruining my face. No, that will never happen.

Back from the dead

No one actually ever comes back from the dead. But here I am saying it as a way to tell you all that I am coming back and staying this time. The last 8 months have been hell. There is no other way to put it. I lost my father and I also lost my lover. I'll say his name now, Michael T., and I don't care who knows it or who goes and tattles to his girlfriend about us. Fuck him. I'll catch up with all that later. For now I want to say that I am free of that bastard. That lying, cheating, horrid, pathetic excuse for a man.

I will be putting up my writing practices on the blog. All the stuff in my head. All the stuff I write raw from the depths. It's all going to come out. Names might be mentioned. But maybe not. How will the writing practice be distinguishable from the regular blog? Well now I just don't know. Let's see how it goes.

A month already

I still can't believe my father is gone. I walk into my parent's house and I see all of his pictures. I see his ashes in his miniature casket and think "This can't be happening". My mother and I leave to go to the store and it seems that he's there at the house waiting for us to return. Why did he have to die? It's too much.

I am afraid I am not up for much writing tonight. I just got the internet connected again. This is sort of a test run. I hate being poor. I hate wasting my talents at the front desk of my school. I hate being alone. Whine, whine, whine. Poor me. I need a serious change in circumstances.

Getting through

It's been three weeks since my father died. My mother and brothers are still in shock. We never believed that he would be taken from us so soon. He was 65. We always beleived he would still be here with us at least another 10 or 15 years. We never knew just how bad his heart was. This is too difficult. These last few weeks have been a blur. I go to my job every day and I get more and more frustrated. I get so angry. And now that my father is in heaven I feel that he can see everything that is happening to me and feels even more distress.

It's just no consolation to hear all the platitudes. I don't want my dad in a better place. I want him here with us. With my mother in their house. My brothers have been here nearly every day and I come every day but it's not right that he's not here. We miss him horribly. No matter what kind of crappy day I had at work when I came to my parent's house in the evening's and saw my parents together I knew things would work out. My dad would make a joke or just ask me how my day was. I would tell him all my stories from the trenches and he would make his comments and tell me to keep looking for a better job. I am trying so hard to find a better job. I just wish that my dad had lived to see me succeed.

Why do people have to die? When my grandmothers, my grandfather, and my uncle all passed away I felt sad. But nothing compares to this grief. This is much closer. It is going to take time. But Saturdays now have become a sad day for me. It's when my daddy died and the worst thing of all is he never even made it to the hospital. He never had a chance. He was gone in an instant. How does that happen? Why did this happen?

Tragedy has struck...

None of us in my family will ever be the same again. Almost two weeks ago I lost my father. Saturday morning, January 20, 2007at 11:08 am my father died of a massive heart attack. He was at home when it happened, talking to my mother, spending a lazy morning still in bed, laughing, and making his jokes. One minute he's making plans to go see some more doctors and get more tests done for the terrible pains he'd been experiencing for over four months in his chest and back and the next instant he says my mother's name and then closes his eyes and slips away. How is that even possible? How could this have happened? What will we all do without him? For the last four years I have been nearly inseparable from my parents having reached an age when all I wanted to do was hang out with them and do things together. The pain and loss I feel, the overwhelming sadness, and the confusion as to how and why this happened is on my mind night and day. My father was such a great man. He was the best dad, he was a great husband and friend to my mother, and he loved us all so much. He wasn't ready to go. We didn't want him to go. We wanted more time. Dammit this absolutely sucks.

These last three weeks have been a blur. The nights are the worst. I think about my dad and I just cry and cry. I can't sleep. It is little consolation when people say "He's in a better place. God has a plan for all of us. It was his time." Yes I've heard it all. Other people have suffered this kind of loss too. But this is the first loss of its kind for me. Not the deaths of my grandparents or my beloved uncle is equal to the hole I now have in my heart. I am going to miss my daddy so much that now that I won't see him again is when I tell him every day how much I love him. I should have said it more often when he was alive. Now is when we're being told to be strong, have faith, believe in God's will. I know all of that. But it doesn't make this sadness any less or the way we lost him fade from my mind.

In coping with this enormous loss of my dad I have come to the realization that truly life is too short to be wasting it on empty dreams and prayers put in the wrong place that God can not answer because He knows they are not right for me. My father always knew what was best for me. And God as my spiritual parent also knows what is best for me. So the time has come for me to cut the lead weights from my mind and heart and start making room for new beginnings.

First, I told my ex-boyfriend, Eric, from Austin, that I didn 't see any point to continuing a "relationship" over the phone with half-assed conversations. I gave him one opportunity after another to buck up and be what I needed him to be. He didn't do it. So I've cut him loose.

I've deleted the e-mails I got from a certain someone over the past year. I've deleted his addresses from my contacts list. And now I delete him from my heart. I waited for him to come around, hoped and prayed, that maybe, just maybe he would come back to me. But no. It was not meant to be. I'm done then. Just like I chose to love him once now I choose to cut him loose. He doesn't deserve my love and I will not give out now. I don't regret meeting him. But I learned my lesson and now I am moving on.

I've deleted someone else too. Someone who once made me cry in the middle of a crowded bar and who has never been a good friend anyway. Gone. Cut loose. I am tearing these people out of my life because I refuse to hand over to them any more of my energy and time.

I will keep my one Michael has a friend. FRIEND. Because though I meant what I said when I told him I loved him I also knew that it would be the beginning of the end. I choose to love him but now only as my friend.

I am facing my own mortality. And I have to choose how I live my life from here on out. I choose to keep close to me those people who I truly value and who truly value me. Somewhere my daddy is looking down on me from heaven and probably discovering things about me he never knew. But I know he would be proud of the decisions I am now taking and that I am finally all grown up.

Good-bye daddy. I love you and will miss you horribly. But death is not the end. We will be together again one day. Sleep and dream of all of us.

Never a dull moment at Sherlock's Pub

I was out last night at the Westheimer/Beltway 8 Sherlock's Pub with a group of friends; Maria, David, Elva, Minnie, and Lisa. We're having some drinks, trying to make ourselves heard over the band playing Chili Peppers covers, and talking about possible camping trip plans for Memorial Day weekend. David, Maria's boyfriend, leaves us for a moment to go look for his misplaced cell phone. Elva is turned away talking to her sister and the other women. Maria and I are by ourselves, leaning against a bar, when two guys make a beeline straight for her. They start in with the usual pick-up lines "Hi. Where are you from? What's your name? What are you up to tonight?" Maria responds to each question with the requisite answers "My name's Maria. I'm from Venezuela. And I'm here with friends and waiting for my boyfriend." I stand there and wait to see if either of these fine specimens of neanderthal-ism will even attempt to speak to me. Very quickly I see that they have no intention of initiating any type of contact. When Maria said she was waiting for her boyfriend David as if on cue came back to join us and stepped in between Mr. Blond (totally forgot his name) and Mr. Eric(that name stuck since it's the name of one of my ex's). Mr. Blond and Mr. Eric turn to walk away and Mr. Blond says to Mr. Eric "Well, that was a total failure." Unable to contain myself any longer I turn to these two un-gentlemen and instigate what amounts to an interrogation. Here is the exact conversation:

Me: "Excuse me guys. I'm just curious. I'm standing right there next to my friend yet why did you two only talk to her and not to me?"

Mr. Eric: "Oh, I just happen to like Venezuelan women."

Me: "You didn't know she was Venezuelan until she told you."

Mr. Eric: "Well, I like Latin women."

Me: "And you don't think I'm a Latin woman?"

Mr. Eric: "Oh, I know you're a Latin woman. But see you were standing behind this other guy and we didn't see you. We saw your friend from behind and she had this long hair which I also happen to like."

Me: "Ah, ha..." I looked at them intently while I twirled the curled ends of my long red hair now past my shoulders. "Okay you guys. I really just wanted to know. Go have a good night." And I released them from my searing, penetrating gaze to let them go join the rest of their like-minded swinish brethren.

I was utterly offended. Not because I am jealous of Maria. I have never been jealous of Maria. I do plenty well on my own, idiots like the above notwithstanding. I was offended because those two were just bald-faced rude. Listen up men of the world who might happen to be reading this. Take a lesson from Manners and Etiquette While Out in Bars Looking for Women. If you and your friends are out someplace do try, no matter how hard it might be, to act like gentlemen. That means if you see two or more women standing around and you do decide to approach them then introduce yourselves to Everyone. Do not stand there and simply talk to one woman and completely ignore the other one. Yes, men will always be attracted to one more than the other but to stand there, pointedly talk to one woman and completely ignore the other one is absolutely the rudest thing men can possibly do. Well they can do other rude and stupid things too but let's stick to the point here. Why didn't the two goons just admit it? They zeroed in on Maria because the only difference between her and I is about 70 pounds. I admit to having a slight weight problem that I am taking care of but if some jerk is only going to be concerned about that then he's not for me anyway. The weight can always come off but stupidity, ignorance, and shallowness goes down deeper and there is no cure for that.

Far from letting that ruin my night I was down on the dance floor, dancing, drinking my Bloody Marys and Shiner, and talking to Elva. About an hour later from the incident with Mr. Blond and Mr. Eric, this dark skinned Latino guy comes over to me. He tells me his name, tells me he's from Bogota, Colombia then asks me my name, and asks me where I live. After every sentence and question is the word "baby" and Mr. Colombia also happened to have happy hands that kept trying to grab my ass and pull me closer to him. So I go from the extreme of having two guys ignore me to one guy who can't keep his hands off of me. Again, refer to the manual on Manners and Etiquette While Out in Bars Looking for Women. We don't like to be pawed over as if we were pieces of meat either. Oh, duh, I forgot I was in a meat market. Mr. Colombia obviously seeing he wasn't about to get lucky with the "gordita" said "I'll be right back, baby." He went off in search of his friends and I knew damn well he wasn't coming back. I was not about to wait around for him either. My friends and I finished our drinks and each headed off into the grainy foggy night to go home.

It proves my theory correct. Men trolling bars looking for women only want barbie doll sized women. The size 14/16 women like me are only last resort when it's last call in every bar in America. That's all fine and good guys. You want a barbie doll a barbie doll is exactly what you are going to get. And everyone knows barbie dolls are made out of cheap plastic with stiff moving joints and hollow heads.

What's on the mind of 15-year olds

My two 15-year old cousins, Anita and Fannie, have been staying with us for the last two days. As typical teenagers they are bored with just hanging out with the family. Even just three days away from their home turf and they are pacing the floors, pooching out their lips, and whining about the fact that there is no internet at either my parent's house or my house. Their biggest adventure so far was going to Katy Mills Mall yesterday afternoon. Imagine that. They would rather pace the mall then spend a quiet afternoon looking at surrealist art at The Menil Museum. To placate them I told them I would bring them here to the Cy-Fair College library so they could get their web messenger fix. As I let them sleep in until 10am this morning, which for them is an ungodly early hour to get up when they are on vacation, I pondered the fact of what concerns most 15-year olds these days. For them it's staying connected with their friends, boyfriends, their world of shopping, and when's the next meal. I thought back to when I was 15 and the things that most concerned me. Here they are:

My weight. Always was a full-figured girl. At 15 I was between a size 12 and 14.

My feelings for an unavailable man.

My feelings of being overshadowed by my slimmer, more popular best friend.

My concern over whether or not I would have a boyfriend.

Do I have enough friends?

Am I pretty and do other people think so?

Now (yikes I am dating myself here. @#$%&* it) 23 years later, sitting at my kitchen table feeding my coffee addiction I thought about the things that most concern me. Here they are:

My weight. New Year's resolution once again is to lose it. I'm still a size 14.

My feelings for two unavailable men.

Sometimes feeling overshadowed by my slimmer girl-friends when we all go out.

Wondering if in 2007 I will finally get a boyfriend.

Wondering if I have enough friends to keep me occupied.

Am I still pretty?

Oh, and one more, will I finally get a teaching job and get out of the poverty rut? (Back when I was 15 I was still being supported by mom and dad. Hmm...actually they still provide a great deal of support...mainly in the terms of groceries.)

Wow. I haven't changed much. Perhaps that is why I can't move forward. Because I am still stuck in a time loop of having the same basic feelings of insecurity. It's hard to let go of old habits, old patterns of thinking, and old feelings. That's why people make New Year's Resolutions. The old year is finally over and behind us. It's time to bring in the new. It's time for me to clean up my house and my mind. I know now what I have to do.

Plans Change

The Austin trip this week got scratched. Needless to say I will not be seeing my ex-boyfriend, spending any time with him, nor do I plan to in the future. There is a reason why he's an ex and I think it's best he stays an ex. I got lonely, I got weak, I got sentimental. Whatever. I need to stay strong if I am to achieve the goals I set out for myself in 2007. That includes also easing out of my life the other two that have plagued my mind for the last two years. Can I love them from afar and leave them as memories in the pages of my journals? I think I can. I know I can.

I have to make some major changes right now if I hope to accomplish my plans. In the mean time this week is not a total loss because I still have six more days of vacation, my relatives are coming in from Monterrey, and I get to babysit teenagers. Perhaps their youth will rub off on me and I can get my second wind which I will definitely need when the clock rolls over into
2007.

2007. It's a magic number. Everything will change in 2007.

Much needed sleep

After surviving another school semester I came home yesterday afternoon and fell asleep around 5:30pm and didn't wake up until 7:30am this morning. I haven't slept that many hours in a long time. My body finally just said "Enough. You're taking some time out." I slept like the dead. And dreamed of crazy things. But it's been such an emotional roller-coaster for me these last few months. I still haven't found a teaching job. I still haven't settled down with that right special someone. Yet things could be worse so I am glad for what I have.

I am going to be spending a few days next week in Austin. I will be spending some time with an ex-boyfriend who after three years still carries the torch. I need those few days of utter bliss. I don't want to think about my financial problems, my lack of success at finding a teaching job, or the fact I opened my mouth and let the words out that should have remained sealed. I would rather just enjoy spending time with a good person whom I care about, enjoy a little holiday cheer with my family, and son, and start 2007 with a clean slate. I have many projects on my plate and I need to completely get naked and wind down before I wind up to the fever pitch I get myself in when things are speeding down a rail like a runaway train.

I am going to get super-busy very quickly in 2007 and so need a few days to zone out. Hopefully I will have access to the internet and can update from Austin next week. Until then Merry Winter Solstice Christmas Kwanza Hanukkah Ramadan.

I said it and it can't be taken back

My lover was at my house this afternoon and I told him that I loved him. After seven years the words finally left my mouth. It was much simpler in the beginning when love wasn't thrown into the mix. It was just lust and the non-stop revolving party door. Now in the last two years things got way too intense. I fell in love with him but I've made it clear that he's not the one for me. He knows that too. In fact when I told him I loved him he just asked "Why?" And I said "Because I can. Because I want to. And I hope this doesn't change things between us." I really do hope he doesn't get all weird about it. Like stops calling me and stops seeing me just because I love him. I just really needed to get it off my chest. And I whispered in his ear that deep down inside I knew he loved me too but that it was just fine with me to continue on as we've been.

I told him I could compartementalize my feelings. I can love him and I can love another. In fact I do love someone else. And that someone else knows who he is too. But I didn't say that to him this afternoon. That would be too cruel. "Yes I love you but you're not the only one." And I realize how naked and vulnerable I am making myself here. But the fact is life is too damn short and precious to be quibbling over the finer points of who you love. I choose to love two men at the same time. I choose to see one of them when I can and enjoy a few hours with him sex or no sex. And I choose to write to the other one when I can and I've accepted that he's left and won't return and I can love him anyway. And I can meet someone else, just the right one, who is free to love me, and can give me what I want and what I need and love him too.

Does it seem like too much? Why? I live such a multi-layered life anyway. Not one person has any clue just who I am. I keep so many secrets from all of my friends that each one holds just one piece to the enormous puzzle of me. Not even my family has the complete picture. It is going to take someone extraordinary to truly accept every part of me and want to be with me anyway. But the one who does can rest assured that I will love him fiercely, devotedly, and completely. And as for my other feelings they can go to that place in my heart where I've left all my other relics. So what I am I to do? Be a celibate nun until I meet Mr. Right? Hell no. A woman has needs too or is that realm still only a man's peragotive?

Truly I must have been burned at the stake in some prevous life because I feel like I am on fire all the time. And lately that feeling has intensified. My mind is constantly racing and I can't keep it still. Trying to focus and concentrate lately has become difficult. Obsessive thoughts plague me. I need some peace and quiet. I want to go live deep in the earth like in a cave for a few days and just shut out all the noise I hear constantly in my head.

I can't believe 2006 is almost gone. What did I accomplish this year? That will be a blog for the last day of the year. My very own year in review. Until then. Ciao!

Alcohol and the writer

the other night I poured myself a hefty glass of red wine and began my second job at night which pays me nothing monetarily but lifts me higher than the snowy peaks of the Andes. Yet after the first few delicious swigs of that matching liquid color of my painted nails I realized that I spent hours writing pages and pages of utter swill. I mean there were a few gems here and there dispersed in my otherwise loopy, alcohol-soaked brain ramblings, but otherwise naw, not too good. It makes me wonder how some of my favorite writers, who were well known raging alcoholics, managed to come up with the brilliance they wrote. Poe, Faulkner, Thomas, and Fitzgerald to name just a few were famous for their literary output and notorious for their alcoholic input. Perhaps I am trying to keep up but the actual writing process is going to have to get done without the glass of wine at my fingertips unless I purposely want to get blind drunk and then write whatever craziness comes into my head.

2007 is around the corner and I know that is going to be my year. It's all going to turn around for me then. I just know it. Soon I will even know how to upload photos on this nutty blog and then images will stream forth as well as words.

Ciao!

Oh Holiday Time is Here Again

And I am in serious need of some cash if my son and I are going to have any kind of gifts under the tree this year. I've been thinking of different ways to earn some extra cash. Here's a list of the things I could do:

1. Stand on the street corner with a sign that says "Will write haikus for a dollar. Makes a great gift for the aspiring poet in your life."

2. Hire myself out as a singing telegram.

3. Sell my memoirs.

HMM....yeah....okay. I need to re-think this whole thing.

My mind is made up.

Yesterday I talked to my latest internet option. We were supposed to meet last night for our "first" date. But as fate would have it my parents took off to the casino and I had no-one to watch my son. So I called S and told him the situation. He was out and about at his job. At first he wanted me to come meet him right then and there but when I told him that I didn't have anyone to leave my son with he at first thought I was trying to get out of meeting him.

He said "Remember what I told you. Three strikes and you're out. This is strike one. You'll have to make it up to me."
"Oh." I said. "Uh, okay, I'll think of something."
Then he laughed and said "I am joking. You have to learn when I am joking. Come on you said in your profile that you had a sense of humor."

The fact is I don't know him, we haven't met, so no I don't know when he is joking. And yes my profile said I had a sense of humor but I certainly don't like someone telling me to have one right then and there. He talked my ear off for another hour about stuff like he has a gift of knowing what people think and he said "I know what you were thinking last night before you went to sleep. That this guy is either a really good bullshitter or too good to be true. And that you don't want to hurt me." I was quiet and I told him that yes that is what I was thinking. Actually what I was thinking was why he kept telling me things I just wasn't interested in and never once did he ask about me, what I did, what plans I had for my life, etc...So maybe part of what he said was true but you don't need some "Holy Ghost" talking to you to tell you that. He's got an Associate's Degree in marketing and sales. He drives a delivery truck all over the freaking city and the four cardinal suburbs delivering products to his clients. Of course he knows people and how to read their emotions and body language. He wouldn't be a very good salesman if he couldn't do that.

Finally I called him out on that point about why he hadn't asked me anything about me. His reply was "I know you have been through a lot. I don't need to ask you anything about you. When I meet you and look into your eyes then I will know if you are real. You sound like a good person with a big heart but when I look into people's eyes then I know if they are real or not." What kind of shit is that? Now in the world of dating we have to wait and look into each other's eyes before we determine if they're real or not? Well perhaps because of the nature of his job he needs to look into people's eyes. But my intuition and the nature of what I do relies on listening and talking in an equal fashion. And for three days all I've heard is this guy talk about himself and not once ask me anything about me. That does not sit well with me.

He finally told me to pray and to truly ask God to help me decide if I felt comfortable in meeting him. Which I did do last night. And quite frankly my gut and my heart tells me I will never be happy with someone with less education than me and that works in the trades instead of the professional fields. Perhaps that is shallow of me but I don't think so. I have no doubt S makes good money and can support me financially. But I don't care if he won the lottery tomorrow and made gazillions of dollars. Money is good but it doesn't keep me mentally stimulated. And I would prefer to make my own money and spend it however I want. I want to meet my mental, spiritual, and passionate equal. I did meet him in fact. But he was already taken and that is something I've had to accept. It sucks to high heaven but I have been dealing with it for over a year. With that person I would have been ecstatic. But it was not meant to be. So all I can do is keep my options open, pray that I meet someone similar to him, and keep up my faith that everything will turn out all right.

I took my profile off the internet. I will never use an on-line dating service again. I will never spend money on speed dating again. Instead I will use what resources I have in terms of going out and meeting people the old fashioned way. I am real. And I am ready to meet that person of my passionate dreams. But I will not compromise nor will I lower my standards even if that means I will continue to be alone for another six years. I hope and pray that that doesn't happen. That I will be with someone sooner than that. But I would rather be alone than with someone I can not love and can not give me what I want or need.

Which is better?

To have someone smarter than you or someone who is smart but not quite at your level? Usually I find that I am the one way out of someone's league. Invariably I always seem to attract the ones who are not quite at my intelllectual and sophisticated level yet the ones up there I would like to meet continue to elude me. Now I am faced with a dilemma. Well it's not really a dilemma. More of a conundrum. I've met someone on-line and we've been talking on the phone for the last two days for up to two hours each time. He seems nice enough but starts rambling about friends of his I've never met and telling me all about their relationship woes. And I am too polite to say "I really don't give a rat's ass about your friends and their problems. I don't know them so why are you boring me with all their issues?" He's also told me all about his very messed up two previous marrigaes. Okay, very well, I've had one broken marriage myself so that I can listen to. But the clincher is he's already jumped light-years ahead with "If we hit off...if we click...if we start a relationship...if we get married..." and we haven't even had a first date yet. And then he even went so far as to tell me certain intimate things about himself that quite frankly I don't need to know right away. We haven't even met face to face. I feel like he just wants all the cards on the table, dealt face up, so he knows what he's getting into. It's because he's been screwed over in the past and doesn't want to leave anything to chance. On the one hand I can understand that. But, on the other there is no mystery to this person. I am sure he's a great guy but by exposing himself too much too soon it is a turn off to my adventurous heart that seeks a little more excitement. He would be safe and dependable. I suppose at my age I need to stop being so picky. But he may discover that truly I am too intelligent and cultured for him and he may drop me. And I am used to that. So used to it in fact that I wouldn't even bat an eyelash and instead just thank God for saving me from another mistake. But I know one thing for sure. If this latetest internet date goes awry then I am taking my profile off the on-line dating circuit forever. And I will never use it again. I will have to look elsewhere for my soulmate. Cyber-mates are a shot in the dark.

Cold

It's colder inside my house than it is outside. And I have no-one to keep me warm. Today my dad and I only worked a half-day. That is good but also bad. Good because I don't have to stay cooped up in a tiny office but bad because now I am cooped up inside my house. I could clean it up; there's laundry to do, tubs and toilets to scrub, carpets to vacuum, a garage that is waist deep in stuff I haven't opened in about five years, and month's worth of junk mail to sort and toss. I could do all of those things but I will not. Instead I ma here on my blog, with my diary opened in front of me and I am typing and writing at the same time. I am also looking up movie times because I want to get the hell out of my house and go do something with my friends. I never realized it all of the years of my life until just this moment how much I hate just hanging around my house. I don't like being at home. I like being out. The home is a place to eat, sleep, and shower. If people entertain then I would prefer to be at their houses not mine. I have been cooped up in this house for a good two years, struggling, and not haveing enough money to go play around with and I am sick of it. I need an adventure. I need to be out dancing, socializing, at cocktail parties, at book events, writing conferences, visiting drowned cities in Mexico, anywhere but here. My home is a prison. I feel trapped. And I am starting to suffocate.

I could call my elusive lover. It's the perfect time for it. My son is with his dad I have the afternoon free...but I won't call him. He is slipping away like an eel through the slush of a river bottom. He's finding other diversions and it's pissing me off. Not out of jealousy over another woman but because he always refused to stay the night with me. And now I am afraid that what he didn't give to me he will give to that other woman. That is what I can't stand. So I will not call him and I hope he suffers when he realizes what he has given up. I hope he cries tears of blood. I will not call him but he will be calling me. He usually does after a few days.

I want to walk in a submerged plaza. I want to pray in the skeleton church beneath the waters. I want to disappear for a few days into a town that comes and goes with the rains. What I want is to be free of all of my financial problems so I can go and do exactly what I want.