Forever Tainted

Better? ...or in this particular case: sluttier, trashier, dirtier, soiled and classless, filthy little whores that need to talk army boys into sending big, scary, high school-like (worthless) threats based on lies to other people?

Get over it bitch. And if you care so much about your children, stop slutting yourself all over the net - being an online cum-dumpster does your children less favors than your ex has done (and will now stop doing because you're a thankless cunt who likes to cause shit let alone tell lies about him). Perhaps your friend with the big scary mouth will to pay your bills now. You should be ashamed of yourself.

P.S. I hope the reality of this post that is certainly directed RIGHT AT YOU - makes you laugh as much as it (and you in general actually) do me. Foolish, foolish little girl.

”Today, I interviewed my grandmother for part of a research paper I’m working on for my Psychology class. When I asked her to define success in her own words, she said, “Success is when you look back at your life and the memories make you smile.”

I read that quote today. It made me think…

While I was in Squamish this past week, I got up with my 7-year-old niece and her little friend and I jumped on the trampoline. My sister has a trampoline. Lars’ sister has a trampoline. And I had a trampoline in my back yard for the longest time before mom died. I never once before had the courage to do such a thing. I will remember jumping with the little ones, and I'll smile.

More than a decade in Dubai conditioned me to think that jumping on a trampoline, like biking, working out, running, or conducting any sort of physical activity was inappropriate, even rude for a girl to do. I’m so very thankful I’m not longer a part of that hell. I look back on so many years there with pain and frustration.

Here are a couple more reasons I’m glad I’m not there anymore: Reason One – Sex Crimes & Reason 2 – Cough Syrup.

I’m going to spend more time doing what I know will make me smile, and less time with the crap that makes me unhappy. Lars is going to smile with me… Looks like we may have a new member to the family pretty soon, too…

Leaving my house of out sheer frustration today, I found myself wandering down the beach side, and into a graveyard. I think it’s important to remember the dead, even if you never knew them while they lived. A visit to the graveyard helps remind you, that you a mere mortal…

I took photos along the way, as I often find its easier to express myself creatively, rather than talking. And the number of pain-killers and sedatives I’ve taken today make talking or typing a pretty big task.


Walking along the water, I found this bouquet in the tree. I can only assume it’s there to remind passer-by’s of a death that had occurred there. Such sights are not uncommon here.


~*~
Than I came across a place I felt belonged…



And though it didn’t look just like that while I was there, in my mind, that’s exactly what I saw.

~*~

Two things struck me at the graveyard:



The date of death on this was 1919. 91 Years ago. And there are fresh flowers on her tombstone today. It goes to show some people will not ever be forgotten. Who could have lived long enough ago to remember Agnes Roberts? And how old is this person now?

Some pains never die. And some people will always be loved, even in death.

~*~

In death, there was an abundance of life:



I sincerely hope my grave looks something like this when I’m gone.



~*~

As I made my way back to the path by the water… I found myself a peace.

Home should be a place where you’re comfortable, at peace, and able to relax. Let the world outside rush by, and worry about the busses being late, the weather being bad, and the stock markets crashing. Let the world outside deal with parking fees, the politicians, and the government’s mistakes. At home, you should be able to think of nothing but that which pleases you.

I’ve been home for 2 days now. Absolutely exhausted from this entire month, I’ve spent much of my time back sleeping. When I’m not sleeping, I find myself unhappy, uncomfortable, and even miserable. I cannot believe a huge piece of me is wishing I’d stayed in Squamish.

Maybe I’ve made a mistake? Maybe my heart has deceived me again? Or maybe, it’s just in the stars for this time and place? Maybe that anxiety I felt before I left had more to do with an emotional death than a physical one? Either way, the flags are up and I’m not going to have this, a permanent environment. That which is making me uncomfortable needs to be removed, or changed immediately.

How funny I actually feel relieved that I made it here... I really felt certain I wouldn't. I've always believed I'll die in an car wreck... I drive, and I do it well. But I also do it fast. I like speed. Before Lars, I was happiest when I was moving somewhere, in a car, on a highway. Now, I'm happiest in his arms.

Blah. I need to go to bed. I have to be up for 5 and it's going on 1 now. I wish I were in his arms, rather than here.
Sent from my BlackBerry® powered by Virgin Mobile.

June 21, 2010

Lars,

I have no idea what possesses me to write this, but I feel consumed with this deep sadness… Not for me. I’m at peace. My life with you is perfect. It’s a deep sorrow I feel for you.

I need you to know that I love you with all my heart. My life… Me… I am complete now. And I so hope I’m wrong, but as I pack to leave for Squamish, I can’t help but feel it’s the last time. And last night, last night I slept the perfect sleep wrapped in your love; like a perfect end.

Thank you. Thank you for being so: so very wonderful. And thank you for loving me.

If something should happen to me, know my only regret is the time I did not spend with you. This letter should serve as my Last Will & Testament. And legal or not, I wish that everything possible is done to make sure these simple requests are fulfilled:

Promise me you’ll stand by Martin and my brother Jesse long enough to know they are going to cope alright. Please help them be strong, as I know you will be. And hug Kelly Fouchier, tell her I love her with all my heart, but know she doesn’t need you as they do.

Promise me you won’t let either of those epitomes of evil, Sheila Fouchier or Eleanor Russell near my family, my estate or me or my remains. It was not possible for me to live as if I had never encountered either vile excuse for a woman, I wish to at the very lest, die as though neither of these things existed in my life.

Promise me that when my son is old enough to understand, you’ll let him know that I loved him with all my heart and made every choice I possibly could in his best interest.

And finally, perhaps most important of all, promise me you’ll find happiness in our past and your future. I love you, and that is my truest wish for you.

As for my estate… After my debts are paid, I leave everything I own (including but not limited to my apartment in Dubai, my 2006 Nissan Altima (here in Canada), my 2003 Nissan Maxima (in Dubai), any and all jewellery, including that which was left to me from my mother’s estate) to Martin Christopher Lee to divide among my loved ones or keep to him, as he desires. I do hope something profitable for you all, becomes of the little I have, eventually. Perhaps you could all build something together?

There are two groups of people mentioned in this letter. You are either one of the reasons my life was worth living and I thank you, or you were living proof that true evil does exist and have made me even more thankful for the latter in my life.

Much love…
Xx

There is a signed copy of this on the bottom part of our bedside table, babes. I hope I'm just consumed with emotion today, and confusing the fear of missing you for a week with the fear of never seeing you again. I hope you never, ever have to pull it out, but it's there if you need it and I'd much rather be safe than sorry. I love you.

It’s been one hell of a week. For the most of last week I was down with a terrible flu. Despite my minor bitching, people were good to me and I was taken care of. Then it was a weekend full of love and laughter. We had a BBQ and invited Lars side of the family to our home. His sister spent Saturday night, and she and I got up to no good, drinking way more than any two human beings should. Unfortunately that left her a little too ill to take part in all of our Sunday family plans. It gives us a great excuse to do it all again soon, though!

A few photos from the BBQ:

Absolutely terrible photo of me (so very glad my blog format cut me out!), but you have to love just about every other expression on a face in this photo. This was a Happy, Happy Meal!

~*~
My Sunshine and I:

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Lars' mom, Jacquie and I:

I love this woman.
~*~
Mr. Lars & I again (I just love the photos of us best of all!)

~*~
Lars, his sister and myself:

~*~
And just for good measure:



I can’t think of a better way to spend the weekend. My only regret is that my sister didn’t make it out in time. But I will not complain too much, as I’m off to Squamish again today and get to spend a least a week with her and the kids. If things fall into place, I’ll only be in Squamish for a week, and I’ll be able to drag them back with me for a weekend. Perhaps we’ll even meet Lars on our way back and we can stop by the ex's and pick up the last of his crap… oh how convenient it wasn’t all there to be collected in one trip…

We talked a little about the ex over the weekend. And how truly positive and sincere the changes are in all their lives, now that she's gone. Some things were just never meant to be, and forcing them can tear lives & families apart. Things that were meant to be... they tend to feel more right for everyone involved. And even my step-father seems to feel this is all right! The truth be known, no matter how thankful they are for me, I believe I must feel double that for them. I needed people like them in my life. Especially after losing mom. And I've never felt more safe nor content than in Lars' arms.

I need to get on with my day. I’ve regretted not blogging more often, but I really just haven’t managed to find the time… Since I’ll be working mornings this week, maybe that’ll change.

I should probably complain more when I’m not feeling well. I’m sick. And I feel like death. And I’ve told people. But they don’t seem to get it. No one seems to get it.

Sunday Sun Rays…

Yesterday was beautiful. We woke early in the morning and went to the Flea Market with my father, and then just Lars and I went for a walk on the boardwalk and a swing on my all-time favourite swings in the afternoon. I’ve been swimming here since I was just a little girl and I adore the fact that I get to share this piece of my past with him now. We ate easy, and cuddled up early to watch Family Guy in bed. I realized as we lay down and the sun was still out – we really are getting old. But I’m ok with being old with him, so long as he’s ok with being old with me.



~*~



We’ve planned next weekend out to include a big BBQ on Sunday, invited his mom and sister and we’re all incredibly excited about getting together again then. I leave Monday for Squamish again, so it’s a bit tight, but will definitely be worth it.

It occurred to me this morning as I made Lars’ grandma’s Whipped Shortbread Cookie recipe, how truly happy I am. It occurred to me that perhaps I always could have been, had I only chosen to live this way. It occurred to me that so much more is in our control than we know… if only we knew it when we needed it most. I’d have been spared a lot of self-inflicted hurt.

Anyway, I’m off to pick up Lars from work, surprise cookies in hand. It’s another beautiful day around here. And I couldn’t possibly be happier about life in general.

So I’ve spent a few days fiddling with my blog and the widgets, trying to reward my fellow bloggers who choose to share their thoughts by adding CommentLuv to the posts, and if I’ve learned one thing between this and the awkward (to downright-out dysfunctional) management of uploads/downloads, Google Chrome is an inferior browser (even to IE – eek!) in every way excepting speed and interface – and that of course is a matter of opinion. Over the past few months I’ve grown rather fond of Chrome’s interface, but I’m afraid I’ll have to revert back to my trusty old Mozilla, because Chrome has managed to piss me off just that much. Dual monitors make it a bit easier for me to manage two different browsers, switching between the two as needed, and I was finally able to install CommentLuv properly, but I am not spending my time online fucking with that shit indefinitely! I do believe I am officially done with Chrome!

Now… Because I’ve been fucking with my blog settings, and depending on your browser or the time that you’re browsing/commenting, you may or may not have seen the changes, perhaps even thought your comments were deleted or unnoticed by me… I’ll point out that as always, I do in fact get emailed copies of every comment on my blog and have had the chance to read those I choose to, and reply to those I deem worthy of comment… If I haven’t commented by now, you don’t need to keep checking. I probably don’t intend to say anything back to you. I tend not to get into pissing battles with people talking (or thinking even, as some of my commenter’s are very delusional in a narcissistic way) out of their ass, as I’d rather not play in their shit.

But Jod’s finally got around to sending me the pics. And umm yes.. There were Bra Pics, though I won’t be posting any of those here…

You’ll just have to live with these non-bra photos…


The girls… Cause some of us really do just kick ass!

~*~

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My baby and me... (And even Kell in the background)

~*~
And Jod’s and me… As she says, “So awesome, even the camera can’t stay still!”


It was an awesome, yet short trip. Looks like I’ll be heading back in just a few days again now… I love this time of year.

For now… I`m going to go bath the cat, then cuddle up with my man and my cat, and we’ll watch movies till we sleep. We have early morning Flee Market plans with my father – since Sundays are our only day off together in the week.

America... FUCK YA.
BOOKS...

I don’t get it…

I won’t go see neither my cat nor my python because my ex’s new girlfriend has moved in with him. Not only do I have no interest in seeing her. I don’t wish to cause him or her any discomfort with my presence.

You had to come out and see me when Lars picked up his stuff. You even had to get up close and get a good look at me. Did it hurt you to see me smile with him, to hear me laugh, to see my tattoo matching his slip out from under my sleeve? Were you comparing yourself to me? Where you wondering what I have that you don’t? The answer is very simple: ’nothing’ to some, and ’everything’ to the person that matters most to me.

I cannot imagine any of those things make you feel good. And you even take it further. You have to know what I’m thinking. You have to read my blog. Day after day, entry after entry… Here you are:



~*~


Why do you care what I have to say, think, or share here? I imagine it must kill you to read of us being happy. Are you reading word for word hoping he and I will fail together? Or are you hoping to learn something from me, from it all? Just what is it you think reading my blog is going to do for you? I am certain of one thing… it certainly isn’t healthy for you.

Do not misunderstand. It really makes no difference to me whether you read or not. It just confuses me that you do and even more so that you do it so persistently...

~*~

Now onto things I do get…

We had a late night last night, but it was totally worth it. I missed a 7am webinar I was scheduled to attend this morning, partially because I slept through it but mostly because I keep getting the days all fucked and didn’t bother to set my alarm. I’m not used to having an actual weekend day off. I’ve had Thursday’s and Friday’s off for the past two years till recently. Suddenly getting a weekend day (Sunday) off, is a treat, but fucking confusing; a shock to the system. Luckily, the 20-minute lecture on common training mistakes wasn’t something I really, REALLY needed to take part in. In fact, my colleague who did make it, assured me I didn’t miss anything at all, really.

I have to stop doing this though.

I’m starting to feel generally worn, slower than usual; like it’s about time I took a vacation or something. I don’t dare take one at this very moment as it feels like I may be requesting a long enough one to go to Dubai soon. Thankfully, my boss understands and when I mentioned felling a lot slower, even duller than usual this afternoon, she sympathized and noted the number of changes I’m going through right now, including weaving a man into my life. I was content single… I love being taken.

As exhausted as I’m starting to feel, I’m exceptionally thankful for my schedule changes. With Lars finally working in the mornings here and me working most nights until 11pm, it felt for a short while like we get little to no quality time together despite sleeping in the same bed each night. With the changes, I get off tonight at 8pm, and then tomorrow night at 6. Then it’s my weekend. It means a few extra hours of playtime for us. Maybe we’ll use tonight’s to go swimming, or for a hike or something…?

I added



(And I bite!)




So I woke up this morning next to our Voodooz doll and a message on my phone asking if he kept me warm. There were words of sweet-nothings on the coffee maker again. With him always finding a way to make me wake with a smile, even when he’s not here to wake with… I couldn’t help but think to myself, ‘What would Lars like to come home to tonight?’

He’s been working so hard at work and even at spoiling me, I feel as though it’s time to give something back. So this morning, I got a lot done.

I washed, perfumed and changed all the bedding so he has a nice, clean, fresh bed to sleep in tonight. I vacuumed the floors, did the dishes and cleaned the littler box so he has a nice tidy house to come home to. I made Arabic pasta, which waits on the stove so he has a nice home-cooked dinner to come home to. And finally, I took a long hot shower, made myself all pretty and sent him a few risky messages so he has a beautifully naughty woman to come home to.

May he always be happy to come home…

You see, I spoke to my father today. He has approved of Lars moving in and since Lars is still paying off his ex’s lease, he’s even being flexible on rent. I’m happy to know my home is now officially his home.

I love the life we’re building together. And even though that honeymoon period is slowly coming to an end, we communicate well. We listen to one another, and we respect one another’s thoughts and feelings. We’re still totally attracted to one another and we enjoy spending time together. We keep striving to find ways to make one another smile, and we still believe there isn’t a better match made on this planet.

Bullshit.

It occurred to me the other day that my mother paid into CPP (Canadian Pension Plan) her whole life. This payment isn’t a payment by choice, but by force. Employers take a percentage off every paycheck and submit to CPP (as well as a federal and provincial taxes AND employment insurance), before handing the checks over to the employee. Businesses get closed down if they fail to do this. Each payday I watch as about a quarter of the money I earned gets sent off into taxes or funds that I’ll most-likely never see again.

My mom’s dead. She doesn’t need a pension. She won’t get her CPP money back. Though she was forced to pay thousands upon thousands into this fund to ‘protect her future’ for her retirement. She won’t retire now, so you’d expect that money be returned to her estate, used to pay some of her burial fees, or even pay off her debts. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t go anywhere. The goddamned government gets to keep it.

Lovely. What's almost as lovely? She paid taxes on that CPP as she paid into it. Had she lived, and been paid a pension... She'd have to pay takes on the money CPP returns to her. Cock-sucking-robbers - taxed twice on the same funds!

The government got to murder my mother and they are robbing her for the last time. And only now, now that a drug addicted crazy man stabbed some unsuspecting 15-year-old down town, now are people standing up and saying, “HEY! BC’s neglect of the mentally instable and those with addictions (because those go hand in fucking hand assholes) is ruining lives and our society! SOMETHING MUST BE DONE ABOUT IT!”

Reminds me of a cry I made years ago – around the same time my mom was threatening to annihilate strangers because her ‘six sense’ told her that they were child molesters. Assholes. If we weren’t there, my mother may have been that same god-damned murderer! If you had listened to us, this poor 15-year-old may NOT be dead today. And my mother may still be alive.

But ranting does nothing. Begging does nothing. No one fucking cares until it affects him or her personally. The god-dammed public on this side of the planet is a bunch of thoughtless, lazy, inconsiderate, pansies that are too scared of change. They need to be sheep – need to be told what to do, even if that means doing nothing at all and watching people around them die. So what, if it isn’t you or your loved one?

But blah… I wonder why I’m so pissed. Aside from the fact that its an out-fucking-rageous situation to begin with. It could be the fact that I’m PMSing. Or the fact that this morning, I decided to go red:



Redheads are supposed to have tempers, aren’t they?

Way too much drinking takes place in Squamish. We got back last night. I’ve been to bed, then up and out and back to bed and I still feel exhausted. There is so very much still left to do around here… And I’ll go pick up Lars this afternoon as well, so there’s little time to do it. Guess he’ll have to help. Finally cleaned out the car, it was a fucking mess, especially after this trip. He picked up some of his things from his ex’s place, including a box full of tools, chains and stuff; she’d left out in the rain and thus was falling apart. Despite his best efforts, the rust from the chains made its way to the interior of my car. That was about at much dirt and grime as I could take.

I suppose I’m way ahead of myself though… For a quick trip, this one was packed.

There was family.

Both mine:


~*~

~*~

And his’:





~*~

There was animal love:


~*~

And even though this bunny peed on me, I love him so!

~*~

There was partying (probably more than there should have been):



(And though I don’t have photos to prove it, there was reggae and even a bon fire in the as well! I was told there are bra photos as well, though I only vaguely remember them being taken of myself and a few girlfriends… I won’t believe it until I see them myself!)

~*~

And of course there was training and time in the office:



Perhaps most importantly of all, there was laughter. Lots of laughter!


All in all, it was a really, REALLY full few days! I missed out on seeing a few people I’d intended to, but since I’m headed back in a few weeks, I’m sure we’ll be able to catch up then.

Lars came out on Saturday, to drive back with me on Sunday. I love the fact that no matter where we are, we can find a way to be together. We had the opportunity to have a hang over breakfast in Squish with my sister, then a great King Crab lunch with his family in Burnaby, and we were back home in our own bed on the island for midnight. Despite being exhausted, it was one of the best days I’ve had in a while.

And about now, I need to go pick him up from work…

I felt his lips on my cheek as I slept this morning. I heard him whisper, though I can’t recall what it was he was saying, they were certainly sweet–somethings. He slipped out of bed and into his work cloths long before I was ready to wake up at 9am. When I woke, the coffee was still warm and I the words “You’re My World” were carefully placed on top of the machine. I love his sweet reminders of how much I mean to him. I love how much he means to me. And I love that he met my father last night and they seem to get along just fine.

Much to the world’s dismay, I didn’t leave for Squamish, obviously. My sister went into my office at 4pm (knowing my shift starts at 3pm). My colleagues are harassing me about why I’m not there yet. And I think despite my boss knowing I’d be arriving tomorrow, she half hoped I’d show a day early (as I often do when scheduled to go, as a surprise). But if I go tomorrow, I get to spend one more night in his arms. And, it’ll be just one more sleep before I can pick up rice-crispy squares (I have been craving them for a week or so now!) from a very old school friend who recently purchased a house in Squamish, and promised me she’ll bring some to work on Friday for me! I really should just go to her house tomorrow before going to the office.

With my dad’s return comes stress. Money is a huge stressing factor in this house. We have renters that don’t pay rent, and assets like property and land that don’t make an income. We have my mother’s estate, the legal proceedings sucking out any reserves we may possibly have. And as we attempt to get rid of the renters, I contemplate selling my apartment in Dubai. I hate the idea of going back there – in fact; I have paranoid fears about it. What if I get caught at Customs and thrown in jail for some miniscule amount of marijuana found on my shoe because I accidentally stepped on someone’s roach here? Stranger things have happened. And I’m fairly certain it’s common for people to be busted at Dubai airport for ‘carrying’ un-useable amounts of drugs. What if my prescription drugs are illegal there, and I end up thrown in jail for them? Again, this is not an uncommon occurrence at Dubai airport.

I have other fears and anxieties about going back as well. I have fears about seeing my ex husband, fears about not wearing hijab anymore and what he’ll have to say about that when it comes to my son. I have fears about reversing all the healing I’ve managed to do since I’ve been back. The UAE is poison to me. It took 12 years to destroy who I was, who I am, and turn me into something really fucking ugly. It’s taken about 3 years, but I’m starting to fix all that. I’m putting the pieces back together and I’m able to finally live my life the way it was meant to be. That’s a huge thing to only be achieving as you approach 30-years-old. What if even a moment in Dubai tears that all down again?

I was walking dead by the time I left there. It’s a miracle I survived long enough to make it here.

Just thinking about it makes my stomach ache… And then I remember going back to Dubai would mean at least a month away from him. How to make a bad thought worse, or a little anxiety full-fledged anxiety attack! It would also mean seeing my baby boy. He alone would be worth the trip. If only I trusted it wouldn't kill me.

He’ll be home from work any time now. He’ll hug away my stresses. And perhaps point out that the chest pains I was feeling yesterday may have very well been stress and I need to stop thinking so much.

Tomorrow night, about 3 minutes to midnight marks 2 months. And it’s been a great two months – though it feels like it’s been a lot longer.

I woke at about 3am beside him last night in tears. Dreams of my mom, or rather of my mom being dead and me so very helpless without her woke me. I was in an antique store with this stupid blue cat toy in my arms. It was something like those Russian dolls that are just cases of smaller doll after smaller doll inside. I wanted it so very bad, and I knew that if my mother were alive she’d have bought it. But as I hugged it this woman walked by and told me she was going to buy it. I burst into tears, telling her how badly I wanted it and that I couldn’t afford to buy it. I woke, crying my little eyes out.

I miss her. I wish I could have just one dream of her being alive and healthy… Or even just happy, if she has to be dead.

It’s ten to 9am. I’ve dropped Lars off at work, put a phone call in to my son; he’s off to Thailand on the 10th of this month… If only his fucking dad would send him here instead…

Anyway, as soon as my Ipod charges I’m heading out to the gym. That always makes me feel better. My father comes home tonight. I think I’m leaving tomorrow morning for Squamish, though I’ve not yet fully decided. I’ll miss Lars and I’m not looking forward to leaving for that reason alone. Otherwise, I’m growing tired of this rock… My father’s ok with Lars being here while I’m gone. I’m ok with the two of them getting to know each other in my absence – hell he let me meet his mother and sister (bless them) for the first time without him.

Talking with him about the tattoo, we’ve thrown a few more ideas in there. Lars likes the idea of a voodoo doll. I like the idea of a pin-up doll – I mean a doll, literally pinned up to my back – bloody limbs and all. But then, I’m twisted that way.

We’ll see what we decide on when I’m back. In the meantime, I need to get the hell out of here. The gym is calling.