Showing posts with label Secret Thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Secret Thoughts. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Translated to English ‘Striking Happiness’ is the meaning of ‘Tareq Saade’, his father explained at his memorial. All these years I never knew and I never thought to ask. As his father left the states for his home in the UAE he left a note on Tareq’s Facebook memorial wall and in closing said, “May his Striking Happiness bug infect you all with permanent joy. This has been his life long wish and it will live forever.”
I believe this to be true.
I hope not to waste a minute of my life being anything but joyful. With that being said, changes, some long over due changes are in the air. When you don’t love what you’re doing, you tend to not want to bother putting your heart into it anymore. Then you realize there really is no point in doing it at all anymore. And love can be a fragile thing it turns out – sometimes all it takes is a single blow to destroy. If I had to put my finger on it, I’d say that irreparable blow came just under a month ago now.
I met with the ESS (Emergency Social Service) coordinator today. I’ve submitted my applications and my identification for a criminal record check. I’ve filled out my forms and I am on my way to becoming an active volunteer in my community. From there, I hope to move on to Communications and then Search and Rescue. I can hear Tareq’s encouragement along the way…
I’ve applied for some other life altering events, however I’m not going to discuss just yet out of fear of jinxing them! Until then, just know that I’m aiming for ‘Striking Happiness’.
I believe this to be true.
I hope not to waste a minute of my life being anything but joyful. With that being said, changes, some long over due changes are in the air. When you don’t love what you’re doing, you tend to not want to bother putting your heart into it anymore. Then you realize there really is no point in doing it at all anymore. And love can be a fragile thing it turns out – sometimes all it takes is a single blow to destroy. If I had to put my finger on it, I’d say that irreparable blow came just under a month ago now.
I met with the ESS (Emergency Social Service) coordinator today. I’ve submitted my applications and my identification for a criminal record check. I’ve filled out my forms and I am on my way to becoming an active volunteer in my community. From there, I hope to move on to Communications and then Search and Rescue. I can hear Tareq’s encouragement along the way…
I’ve applied for some other life altering events, however I’m not going to discuss just yet out of fear of jinxing them! Until then, just know that I’m aiming for ‘Striking Happiness’.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
I talked to my best friend on earth yesterday morning. Right now, she is in Kuwait. I should be in Kuwait, or she should be here. I miss her terribly. She’s not doing well. In fact, she’s recovering from attempting to slash her wrists last Thursday. I won’t go into details except to say I know all too well where she’s at and she does not deserve this and cannot help but feel I am at least partially to blame.
With that being said, I wonder if I’m in a much better place myself right now? My meditation is certainly doing me some good. But I am losing motivation to do it on a daily basis and I have no motivation to exercise or do anything else. In fact, I spend most of my time worrying about money and how the hell I can turn what little I have into enough to feel secure.
I can feel my depression seeping in again in the form of boredom, sincere indifference to most general aspects of my day-to-day life, and the unnerving discontent with my life in general. Sure the meditation is helping me cope with difficult situations, but it doesn’t change my personal core values at all. I’ve come to realize I want change. Big change.
I’m angry with unresolved issues and the anger is festering into deep feelings of hate and absolute disrespect. It shouldn’t be like that.
I don’t want to confront it again because I’ve done so already (albeit, in anger) and have pretty much been brushed off and ignored. I know pushing it further will do me no good. So I will lump it and live with it, in silence. At least until I’m in a better place.
I need to be in a place where I am in control of my own security. How to get there, is the problem… Where to find the focus and the time, when I really have no options but to spend every waking hour working towards and worrying about someone else’s?
Today is my first of 3 days off work this weekend. I have no idea what to do with myself. I have this overwhelming urge to go back to bed and just cry myself to sleep until Lars comes home to hug me.
Instead, I’ll try and fester the energy to go down to the gym and walk or run all this negative energy off.
At times like this, I really wish I were in Kuwait. Or my best friend was here.
With that being said, I wonder if I’m in a much better place myself right now? My meditation is certainly doing me some good. But I am losing motivation to do it on a daily basis and I have no motivation to exercise or do anything else. In fact, I spend most of my time worrying about money and how the hell I can turn what little I have into enough to feel secure.
I can feel my depression seeping in again in the form of boredom, sincere indifference to most general aspects of my day-to-day life, and the unnerving discontent with my life in general. Sure the meditation is helping me cope with difficult situations, but it doesn’t change my personal core values at all. I’ve come to realize I want change. Big change.
I’m angry with unresolved issues and the anger is festering into deep feelings of hate and absolute disrespect. It shouldn’t be like that.
I don’t want to confront it again because I’ve done so already (albeit, in anger) and have pretty much been brushed off and ignored. I know pushing it further will do me no good. So I will lump it and live with it, in silence. At least until I’m in a better place.
I need to be in a place where I am in control of my own security. How to get there, is the problem… Where to find the focus and the time, when I really have no options but to spend every waking hour working towards and worrying about someone else’s?
Today is my first of 3 days off work this weekend. I have no idea what to do with myself. I have this overwhelming urge to go back to bed and just cry myself to sleep until Lars comes home to hug me.
Instead, I’ll try and fester the energy to go down to the gym and walk or run all this negative energy off.
At times like this, I really wish I were in Kuwait. Or my best friend was here.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
I find myself browsing the UAE classifieds looking for potential positions and feel my eyes swell up with tears, my throat tighten and my stomach turn itself inside out until there’s a hollow tugging pull in all directions. I am terrified of that place. I’m terrified of what it once made me and has the potential to make me again. I’m terrified of how dangerous it really is, with its ass backwards laws and consequences and unexplained actions. I half fear that customs will grab me at the airport as I enter for some unknown, unseen crime I’ve committed (or even just been accused of committing) and been charged with in absence, without ever being made aware of it.
I’m stuck between a rock and a real hard place right now.
It’s literally been months since I’ve spoken to my son. No one ever answers any of the telephone numbers I have for him and his father is useless at encouraging him to call me. After a night of dreaming about my baby boy being in my arms again, I woke this morning knowing I’ve about had enough of this.
Sometimes I curse my own morals and the fact that I couldn’t, wouldn’t and didn’t kidnap him and somehow bring him home with me.
I called Dubai Police. It took four or five different telephone numbers I’d found online before I finally found one that didn’t just ring and ring. The man who answered was kind and gentle, but about as useless as I recall the majority of the UAE population to be. He told me to contact the UAE Embassy in Ottawa as they should help me. I explained I have tried to contact the UAE Embassy in Canada multiple times in the past for various reasons and I am never able to get through (as like most government offices in UAE, no one answers their Embassy phone here, either). He asked me to hold then came back with a local Dubai telephone number for me. After making me take it down, he explained it was the Canadian Consulate’s number in Dubai. They should help me. Of course, I’d have to wait until their tomorrow morning, or our current evening, to get an answer.
So I called the Canadian Consulate this evening. The man who answered the phone spoke with a thick Arabic accent and was so rude I called him out on it. He transferred me to a kind lady, who again couldn’t help me at all. Apparently, the only way I can get the UAE authorities to look into this, is to go back to the UAE myself and file a complaint with Dubai Courts. The only other possible option I have is to somehow give someone who is there, who is willing and able to help me fight for this, power or attorney. Of course, to give power or attorney to someone there, I have to do it in the UAE Embassy in Ottawa – or go to the UAE again.
Dealing with this country is spinning round and round, as fast as you can, in place. You don’t get anywhere and every now and then you find yourself so fucking dizzy you are left with a combination of severe pain and nausea.
So for now, I think I’m going to tuck myself into bed where I’ll cry myself to sleep. I’ll wake up tomorrow and hope being this far from my baby is less hard on me, than it is every other day. And I know it won’t be. So I’ll hope that the days will pass quickly and soon he’ll be old enough to come to me on his own, that he chooses to, and that when he does, he forgives me the choices I’d had to make that have kept us apart for so long.
I’m stuck between a rock and a real hard place right now.
It’s literally been months since I’ve spoken to my son. No one ever answers any of the telephone numbers I have for him and his father is useless at encouraging him to call me. After a night of dreaming about my baby boy being in my arms again, I woke this morning knowing I’ve about had enough of this.
Sometimes I curse my own morals and the fact that I couldn’t, wouldn’t and didn’t kidnap him and somehow bring him home with me.
I called Dubai Police. It took four or five different telephone numbers I’d found online before I finally found one that didn’t just ring and ring. The man who answered was kind and gentle, but about as useless as I recall the majority of the UAE population to be. He told me to contact the UAE Embassy in Ottawa as they should help me. I explained I have tried to contact the UAE Embassy in Canada multiple times in the past for various reasons and I am never able to get through (as like most government offices in UAE, no one answers their Embassy phone here, either). He asked me to hold then came back with a local Dubai telephone number for me. After making me take it down, he explained it was the Canadian Consulate’s number in Dubai. They should help me. Of course, I’d have to wait until their tomorrow morning, or our current evening, to get an answer.
So I called the Canadian Consulate this evening. The man who answered the phone spoke with a thick Arabic accent and was so rude I called him out on it. He transferred me to a kind lady, who again couldn’t help me at all. Apparently, the only way I can get the UAE authorities to look into this, is to go back to the UAE myself and file a complaint with Dubai Courts. The only other possible option I have is to somehow give someone who is there, who is willing and able to help me fight for this, power or attorney. Of course, to give power or attorney to someone there, I have to do it in the UAE Embassy in Ottawa – or go to the UAE again.
Dealing with this country is spinning round and round, as fast as you can, in place. You don’t get anywhere and every now and then you find yourself so fucking dizzy you are left with a combination of severe pain and nausea.
So for now, I think I’m going to tuck myself into bed where I’ll cry myself to sleep. I’ll wake up tomorrow and hope being this far from my baby is less hard on me, than it is every other day. And I know it won’t be. So I’ll hope that the days will pass quickly and soon he’ll be old enough to come to me on his own, that he chooses to, and that when he does, he forgives me the choices I’d had to make that have kept us apart for so long.
Monday, March 21, 2011
I’m trying my hardest to fight off a severe internal bitterness right now. It’s been looming, growing even, in my core for weeks now.
And we’ve had a few seemingly great days around here, at least on the surface. We were able to enjoy my birthday party; in fact, some of us had too much fun:
But deep inside, I can’t help but feel I’ve taken one too many god-damned blows lately, in every aspect of my life.
I am doing all that I can to fight off bitterness towards loved ones and acquaintances alike; too many having recently passed ill judgement on me without any facts or a willingness to even hear/read them.
I am doing all that I can to try and mend and repair some very severe damage that has been inflicted on my core, while I can’t help but feel bitter for the tainted light that I’ve been bathed in - after being beaten to a pulp or kicked while I was down.
Rub two rocks together long enough and they’ll catch fire. It’s absolutely fucking despicable to chastise the rocks for igniting. It’s absolutely fucking despicable to make accusations of a fire, despite not seeing it for yourself. And I’m kind of sick of feeling like either of those damned rocks.
I know some people meant absolutely no offense towards me. I know they have their own load of stresses, and personal concerns. What I don’t know is… I don’t know that it’s worth the effort anymore.
And this little bit isn't about them... it's about me.
I’m kept awake at night in anger, frustration, and contemplation about whether or not mending anything is really worth my trouble.
The frustration and bitterness isn’t subsiding but increasing as time goes by. I don’t know that I’ll be able to just forget and move on like this.
Perhaps instead it’s time to reevaluate a few more situations and make some very, very severe changes.
I sincerely believe that if I’m not happy with something in my life, I should be in control of changing it. But what happens where I am happy, I am not in control, and the only viable solutions tend to come with loss and pain of its own, then?
I’m guessing, eventually, a person just snaps.
I feel like I’m on the verge.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
You can’t offer a person a glass of tainted wine, with the capsules clearly visible and then claim you’re offering them nourishment, scream at them for not accepting your gesture, while they watch you try to poison them.
Likewise, you can’t claim you’re trying to make amends, make up, and get over a falling out, while still assaulting and insulting, furious your futile attempts at reconciliation fail.
It just doesn’t work.
Today is my 30th birthday. I’ve learned a lot in my 30 years. Mostly, I’ve learned I don’t have room for negative influences. I don’t have the patience to deal with the bullshit.
We don’t have the time on planet earth to give in to sour, sick, exaggerated feelings.
We love. We hate. We feel torn. We live. We laugh. We cry. We hurt… both others and ourselves. We learn. We laugh some more. We cry harder. We scream louder, and then we whisper softer. We feel ambivalence, and abundance. We love more. We hate more. We get to know passion like the back of our hands, and then like any flaming romance it eventually dulls, even bores. Then we’re faced with the choice:
Do we seek something greater, higher, deeper, and more extravagant? Or are we content with what we have, what we know?
When it comes to emotional roller coasters, I’ve had my share. And I’ve decided that I’m content and do not need to know a deeper love nor hate. I do not need to express my anger over days of insult, childish, dramatic, totally dysfunctional behaviour. And I don’t wish to associate with those who have reached adulthood and still feel the need. I love through and true, and I have chosen to love you.
Life is not easy. Nor is love. We learn to communicate effectively to get the responses we need… Or, as the battle of the fittest works we keep losing – over and over again.
If you really want me to drink that glass of wine… next time you pour it… leave the pills aside.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
In a month and a half, I’ll be turning 30 - or what I tend to answer when people ask: 25 for the 6th time. I’m not sure why people want to interpret that for twenty-five times six, when I really mean, when I turned 25 it was the 1st time, the following year it was the 2nd time, so on, and so on. Perhaps it says a lot about people’s psyche. Perhaps it says a lot about my own. I don’t know. I just know that as per usual, what seems commonsense for me… isn’t so much for the majority.
I don’t really have an issue with being 30. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to embrace getting older. I’ve spent a lot of time letting go of a childhood and a youth many argue I never really got to have. As I get older, I get a greater understanding. I got to have both a childhood and a youth. Mine was just so very varied from others; I got the chance to have a different perspective, a different view of the world and my life as well as others.
I had a great childhood, full of alcoholism and poverty. I had brilliant youth, full of learning to love and lose, and all else that is great in the world. And now… now I’m having a great adulthood. The only thing that is really lacking is my eagerness to be a child again.
And no… I don’t mean be a child in the sense that most would. I mean be a child when it was easy to stay in touch with those you love: when making time, space and putting effort in to be with those who meant the world to you was effortless. My regret is not making a better effort.
Tonight, I spoke to an old friend. Or rather, he feels a lot like an old friend though, I really haven’t known him long enough to call him that: maybe a year or two. The point, I love him with all my heart – yet I don’t talk to him daily, weekly, or even monthly. Today after we spoke, I sent him a text wishing we both make a better effort to stay in touch in the future. I’ve made that request before of other friends… it’s just that tonight I realized how important it might really be to follow through.
I’ve lost the one person I love and admire most on this planet. In light of that, I realize how important it is to keep those you truly love close to you. Know, that if I’m pointing this at you (and even for some of you I haven’t because it hasn’t occurred to me you read my blog or didn’t know it already even), I love you. I want to thank you for being a part of my life.
I don’t really have an issue with being 30. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to embrace getting older. I’ve spent a lot of time letting go of a childhood and a youth many argue I never really got to have. As I get older, I get a greater understanding. I got to have both a childhood and a youth. Mine was just so very varied from others; I got the chance to have a different perspective, a different view of the world and my life as well as others.
I had a great childhood, full of alcoholism and poverty. I had brilliant youth, full of learning to love and lose, and all else that is great in the world. And now… now I’m having a great adulthood. The only thing that is really lacking is my eagerness to be a child again.
And no… I don’t mean be a child in the sense that most would. I mean be a child when it was easy to stay in touch with those you love: when making time, space and putting effort in to be with those who meant the world to you was effortless. My regret is not making a better effort.
Tonight, I spoke to an old friend. Or rather, he feels a lot like an old friend though, I really haven’t known him long enough to call him that: maybe a year or two. The point, I love him with all my heart – yet I don’t talk to him daily, weekly, or even monthly. Today after we spoke, I sent him a text wishing we both make a better effort to stay in touch in the future. I’ve made that request before of other friends… it’s just that tonight I realized how important it might really be to follow through.
I’ve lost the one person I love and admire most on this planet. In light of that, I realize how important it is to keep those you truly love close to you. Know, that if I’m pointing this at you (and even for some of you I haven’t because it hasn’t occurred to me you read my blog or didn’t know it already even), I love you. I want to thank you for being a part of my life.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
This is the third Canada Day in a row that I’ve been back home. Three years. I don’t want to be anywhere else on earth.
Yesterday was a bit of a ride (in more ways than one). I asked my boss for a much-deserved raise. It’s not something I did with ease; as I sincerely feel she’s like a mother to me, and as such I dislike asking her for anything but rather trust that she will look out for my best interests on her own. I tend to forget that we work together in an office, and despite having such a wonderful friendship, when it comes to work our relationship, it is a professional one.
’Professional…’ I’m so glad I know the definition of that word, and spend a lot of my life acting it out…
I laughed a lot at an online war that took place on my blog. It’s been years since I’ve been drawn into such fun ‘n games. But it was on my blog, and my blog is where I can indulge in whatever whim I please at any given moment, I guess. I felt a lot of pity as well; pity for neglected children and a misguided delusional mother who should have been spayed like any stray dog years before conceiving. I felt pity for the fool of an obvious average intelligence level and an engrossed ego to match an impressive vocabulary, that’s been drawn into her toxic web. If only he saw through my eyes (or anyone else’s), he’d see the laughing stock she’s made of him and his empty threats (or ‘promises’ as he prefers we called them)…
This morning I decided to disable the comments on the post, as I believe Lars and I have wasted enough time on idiocy. And hell, since we already have the US Army after us, we should stop while we're still alive!
For now, I’ll ponder the ludicrous that she is, the spite that she holds on to, the insanity that she finds comfort in, the lies she tells, and the true love that we’ve gained from her loss.
Tonight, Lars and I will celebrate the birthday of this great nation. We’ve planned to pack a picnic and go down to the water, where we’ll listen to the live bands then finally watch the fireworks after the sun goes down.
In celebration of Canada, lets share a giggle:
I'm proud to be a Canadian
Pass me another beer
I'm proud to be a Canadian
Hold my seat while I take a piss
Our prime minister sucks dogshit through his nose
His ex-wife gets brown showers from Mick Jagger
The only reason we live in fucking igloos
Is our government makes a living licking shit holes
I'm proud to be a Canadian
Pass me another welfare check
I'm proud to be a Canadian
Hold my seat while I go out and cash it
I'm proud to be a Canadian
Pass me another Eskimo
I'm proud to be a Canadian
Hold my seat while I fuck her up the ass hole
Yesterday was a bit of a ride (in more ways than one). I asked my boss for a much-deserved raise. It’s not something I did with ease; as I sincerely feel she’s like a mother to me, and as such I dislike asking her for anything but rather trust that she will look out for my best interests on her own. I tend to forget that we work together in an office, and despite having such a wonderful friendship, when it comes to work our relationship, it is a professional one.
’Professional…’ I’m so glad I know the definition of that word, and spend a lot of my life acting it out…
I laughed a lot at an online war that took place on my blog. It’s been years since I’ve been drawn into such fun ‘n games. But it was on my blog, and my blog is where I can indulge in whatever whim I please at any given moment, I guess. I felt a lot of pity as well; pity for neglected children and a misguided delusional mother who should have been spayed like any stray dog years before conceiving. I felt pity for the fool of an obvious average intelligence level and an engrossed ego to match an impressive vocabulary, that’s been drawn into her toxic web. If only he saw through my eyes (or anyone else’s), he’d see the laughing stock she’s made of him and his empty threats (or ‘promises’ as he prefers we called them)…
This morning I decided to disable the comments on the post, as I believe Lars and I have wasted enough time on idiocy. And hell, since we already have the US Army after us, we should stop while we're still alive!
For now, I’ll ponder the ludicrous that she is, the spite that she holds on to, the insanity that she finds comfort in, the lies she tells, and the true love that we’ve gained from her loss.
Tonight, Lars and I will celebrate the birthday of this great nation. We’ve planned to pack a picnic and go down to the water, where we’ll listen to the live bands then finally watch the fireworks after the sun goes down.
In celebration of Canada, lets share a giggle:
I'm proud to be a Canadian
Pass me another beer
I'm proud to be a Canadian
Hold my seat while I take a piss
Our prime minister sucks dogshit through his nose
His ex-wife gets brown showers from Mick Jagger
The only reason we live in fucking igloos
Is our government makes a living licking shit holes
I'm proud to be a Canadian
Pass me another welfare check
I'm proud to be a Canadian
Hold my seat while I go out and cash it
I'm proud to be a Canadian
Pass me another Eskimo
I'm proud to be a Canadian
Hold my seat while I fuck her up the ass hole
Monday, June 21, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, June 14, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, June 11, 2010
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 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…?
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
I have some thinking to do.
~*~
I will get back to you.
~*~
You. ROFLMFAO. I wonder if you could look at you, would you laugh the way you make me laugh?
~*~
I hope deleting it was the right thing to do for you, Whore.
~*~
And you... I just miss you. Come home to me soon.
~*~
Monday, May 17, 2010
I’m sorry if I hurt you. I wish neither he nor you had read that.
Hurting you guys, it’s not what I want to do. I was hurt... acting and talking out of anger caused by that pain. Venting made me feel better for a time. But now, now I just feel guilty and a whole lot of anguish for the potential turmoil I may have caused you.
We have been friends for what seems like a lifetime and to some I guess it really is. I suppose it’s human nature to take advantage of and take for granted those who are closest to us – like the housewife who saves her best China for guests only allowing her family, her emotional-life-support, to eat of the same chipped plates day after day. But then, it's really only those that are closest to us that are capable of causing such hurt... isn't it?
I wish you guys the best. I really do. But for the moment, I want nothing to do with either of you.
Hurting you guys, it’s not what I want to do. I was hurt... acting and talking out of anger caused by that pain. Venting made me feel better for a time. But now, now I just feel guilty and a whole lot of anguish for the potential turmoil I may have caused you.
We have been friends for what seems like a lifetime and to some I guess it really is. I suppose it’s human nature to take advantage of and take for granted those who are closest to us – like the housewife who saves her best China for guests only allowing her family, her emotional-life-support, to eat of the same chipped plates day after day. But then, it's really only those that are closest to us that are capable of causing such hurt... isn't it?
I wish you guys the best. I really do. But for the moment, I want nothing to do with either of you.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
As technology helps the world gets smaller and cultures start to mush together, why isn’t there more cultural give and take taking place? The wrongs with the west are what killed my mother. The wrongs with the west are what have broken so many families, so many people here emotionally and psychologically. And even as our world shrinks and more effective ways of living life are being seen, the wrongs with the west are wrongs the west is blind to. The rights when seen, are even mocked and ridiculed.
I believe in so much that this Canadian culture will never grasp. I hold values so close to my heart that I cannot wavier for even the strongest influence. And yet when I go back to my desert home, the same holds true there.
Will I ever find a place where I belong? Or am I eternally lost?
I believe in so much that this Canadian culture will never grasp. I hold values so close to my heart that I cannot wavier for even the strongest influence. And yet when I go back to my desert home, the same holds true there.
Will I ever find a place where I belong? Or am I eternally lost?
Sunday, May 2, 2010
In one of the blog entries I’ve since made private, I mentioned hating feminists. I don’t really hate feminists and I certainly believe in equal rights between men and women. I hate today’s feminist women, who believe in de-pantsing today’s men and turning them into the weaker, meaker sex. Do you know how hard it is to actually find a real man these days because of it? I’ve been blessed to finally find mine…
I hate the feminists that believe being a stay-at-home-mom, who takes care of the children and the household while her husband works to support them financially, is a lesser woman. Don’t get my wrong; this doesn’t include women who can’t really afford, emotionally nor financially, to stay at home. A real woman takes care of what she can when she can and she doesn't expect someone else to do it offering nothing in return. It doesn’t include single welfare mom’s who just keep popping babies expecting my tax dollars to pay their way through life, spending any extra cash they get on frivolous things like booze, toys or tattoos, while their babies don’t even have milk or diapers... Those women are just, well… trash.
I hate the movement that made it impossible for most households to survive on a single income, and forced most homes with children to become double income. I’m an intelligent woman, who can certainly take care of herself. I have a great career. But if I want to dedicate my time to raising my babies, and taking care of my man by making sure he’s fed as best as I possibly can, and that his clothing are just a little cleaner, tidier than his buddies at work, and that he is sexually satisfied, having a woman at home who is more than happy spending an entire day preparing herself to become his sex-kitten at night, rather than slaving away for the dollar while my kids minds rot in daycare and my man wears clothing straight from the dryer, and we all eat food from a box or can, and our sex lives are almost nonexistent because we’re so fucking exhausted from work, then it should be my God-given right and I should be able to do just that. And perhaps most-importantly of all I should be respected for that choice…
But today’s feminists… Many of them anyway, as far as I’m concerned, made that simply impossible. And those are the feminists I hate; the feminists who took away my right to be a woman.
I lied. I don't hate true feminists. Not the ones who are fighting for equal rights. I hate the bitches who sincerely think women should rule the earth and double standards should be applied in favor of women and their sentiments. If a man can smack a man's ass at the office and nothing's said about it... the same man should be able to smack a woman's ass and she shouldn't allow her emotions to get in the way of that, calling it sexual harassment while expecting equal treatment!
I hate the feminists that believe being a stay-at-home-mom, who takes care of the children and the household while her husband works to support them financially, is a lesser woman. Don’t get my wrong; this doesn’t include women who can’t really afford, emotionally nor financially, to stay at home. A real woman takes care of what she can when she can and she doesn't expect someone else to do it offering nothing in return. It doesn’t include single welfare mom’s who just keep popping babies expecting my tax dollars to pay their way through life, spending any extra cash they get on frivolous things like booze, toys or tattoos, while their babies don’t even have milk or diapers... Those women are just, well… trash.
I hate the movement that made it impossible for most households to survive on a single income, and forced most homes with children to become double income. I’m an intelligent woman, who can certainly take care of herself. I have a great career. But if I want to dedicate my time to raising my babies, and taking care of my man by making sure he’s fed as best as I possibly can, and that his clothing are just a little cleaner, tidier than his buddies at work, and that he is sexually satisfied, having a woman at home who is more than happy spending an entire day preparing herself to become his sex-kitten at night, rather than slaving away for the dollar while my kids minds rot in daycare and my man wears clothing straight from the dryer, and we all eat food from a box or can, and our sex lives are almost nonexistent because we’re so fucking exhausted from work, then it should be my God-given right and I should be able to do just that. And perhaps most-importantly of all I should be respected for that choice…
But today’s feminists… Many of them anyway, as far as I’m concerned, made that simply impossible. And those are the feminists I hate; the feminists who took away my right to be a woman.
I lied. I don't hate true feminists. Not the ones who are fighting for equal rights. I hate the bitches who sincerely think women should rule the earth and double standards should be applied in favor of women and their sentiments. If a man can smack a man's ass at the office and nothing's said about it... the same man should be able to smack a woman's ass and she shouldn't allow her emotions to get in the way of that, calling it sexual harassment while expecting equal treatment!
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Choose to embrace all the pain, the hurt, the ugly, the untrue, and the negative will completely consume you.
Open your eyes and see. Your life is not up to me. Nor him. Nor them over there. It is all, every little bit of it, completely up to you.
If you want to be happy… Be happy. And it really is that simple…
…if you want it to be.
If getting there means crossing boarders and moving miles away from this place and closer to those you love, then go. If staying put is what your heart needs to heal, then do just that. But learn to take control of you. Your very own subconscious is screaming this at you, begging you too. Why do you refuse to listen?
There is not a place, physically, psychologically, nor emotionally too far out of reach for you – if only you knew. Happiness could and would consume you...
...Too.
Open your eyes and see. Your life is not up to me. Nor him. Nor them over there. It is all, every little bit of it, completely up to you.
…if you want it to be.
If getting there means crossing boarders and moving miles away from this place and closer to those you love, then go. If staying put is what your heart needs to heal, then do just that. But learn to take control of you. Your very own subconscious is screaming this at you, begging you too. Why do you refuse to listen?
There is not a place, physically, psychologically, nor emotionally too far out of reach for you – if only you knew. Happiness could and would consume you...
...Too.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
It’s hard to believe I met you less than 24 hours ago.
You gave me butterflies, taking my hand into yours just minutes before our breakfasts were served. It’s been far too long since I’ve felt a fluttering like wings in my tummy. Pulling my hands away, I’ve never felt food so invasive in my life.
You made me feel for a moment like young love, captivated by a crush, lost in the rush of such innocent courting.
For hours we lay together, slumbered in one another’s arms like old friends, new lovers, or somewhere in between. How comfortable I am with you – even if only for a day.
You pulled away too soon. You live too far.
You gave me butterflies, taking my hand into yours just minutes before our breakfasts were served. It’s been far too long since I’ve felt a fluttering like wings in my tummy. Pulling my hands away, I’ve never felt food so invasive in my life.
You made me feel for a moment like young love, captivated by a crush, lost in the rush of such innocent courting.
For hours we lay together, slumbered in one another’s arms like old friends, new lovers, or somewhere in between. How comfortable I am with you – even if only for a day.
You pulled away too soon. You live too far.
Monday, March 29, 2010
I’m right. I’M RIGHT! I AM ALWAYS FUCKING RIGHT! I’ll stomp my feet and twist my words, drag up issues from the past while screaming at you to prove it. I am never wrong.
Nor am I responsible for my own happiness, my own security, even my own toilet.
You are. Or she is. Or even him, over there!
And when you fix what I have broken, I owe you neither apology nor thanks. How absurd you should expect even a note of gratitude from someone of my standing. Mortal humans, so stupid! You are unworthy of my time, will you never learn?
So dumb you are that you’ll never see it my way – it’s almost cute to watch you try. But can you not see the troubles you cause me?
How hard it is to always be right in a world where everyone else is wrong.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
So I ran away... I’m sure I’m not the first and I won’t be the fucking last. No doubt I’m scared. You fucking scare me. It’s amazing how I meet you and I’m about ready to abandon everything I’ve ever known and believed in, just because it feels so god damn right with you. It’s amazing how fucking right it feels...
I’m pissed at myself for feeling so much so soon. I’m pissed at myself for being such a pansy I have to run as quick as I can, as far as I can, as soon as I find an excuse. I’m pissed at myself for fearing your rejection so severely and trying to hard to avoid it, I hurt myself in the meantime just as much if not more.
I’m pissed at you for not caring. I’m pissed as you because I’m not sure that you feel the same. I’m just fucking pissed.
I should have stayed in that unhappy marriage. I may have never been happy... But at least I’d never have to give a thought about being alone... At last I’d never have to question being without you.
I’m pissed at myself for feeling so much so soon. I’m pissed at myself for being such a pansy I have to run as quick as I can, as far as I can, as soon as I find an excuse. I’m pissed at myself for fearing your rejection so severely and trying to hard to avoid it, I hurt myself in the meantime just as much if not more.
I’m pissed at you for not caring. I’m pissed as you because I’m not sure that you feel the same. I’m just fucking pissed.
I should have stayed in that unhappy marriage. I may have never been happy... But at least I’d never have to give a thought about being alone... At last I’d never have to question being without you.
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Me
- Tainted Female
- No matter where I am, I'm lost and learning to like it. I'm a living contradiction, and the best lies I tell are the ones I tell myself.
My Blog List
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"UN Delegation" (Microfiction)3 months ago
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Hello 2014!11 years ago
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40 CONSCIOUS years!12 years ago
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Pink Pudding13 years ago
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Another year has passed14 years ago
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allo allo..14 years ago
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See you in Oz?14 years ago
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Downtown15 years ago
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