I've been seriously neglecting my blog. BUT I've been incredibly busy. I recently landed a promotion and I've been working my toosh off. More catch up later......
For now, I have a serious vent about Facefuck, a name my husband came up with that I'm now starting to clearly understand. I just posted "Some people just beg to be punched in the face, ya know?" Just randomly. Because some people really do just beg to be punched in the face. Do they not? So then I get called into my co-workers office and told that my recent post has stirred up all kinds of commotion in the office. People jump to the conclusion that I was referring to a co-worker. Of course I was, but how in the hell do they know? I could be talking about the asshole that just cut me off in traffic on my way back to the office. I could be talking about my husband who has been less than kind lately. I could be talking about the dipshit at Sears who somehow misplaced the order for my new dishwasher (which I have so been looking forward to). Point is, I can't even say something, anything, without people jumping to conclusions and acting like fucking busybodies. Facebook just isn't even fun anymore because I literally can't say ANYTHING I really want to say. Reminds me of the time I posted about my car......
This was several months ago and I posted "My car blew up. They were supposed to have fixed it but they punctured a hole in my radiator instead." Or something along these lines. Fast forward 8 minutes later, and I have an email from the car dealership's owner, who also happens to be...my Facebook friend. My dad also formerly worked for this dealership. HOWEVER, not once did I mention the dealership's name, mention the word dealership or anything of the sort. But Ms. Dealership Owner asked me to take down the post because people probably assumed I took my car to that dealership because my dad worked there and it would look bad for the dealership. I owned a BMW, so what are the chances that people would assume I took my car to a Buick dealership?!?
Well excuse the fuck out of me. I didn't mention anyone by name, and YOUR dealership BLEW UP MY CAR, but you want me to take down a Facebook post because it might reflect poorly on your dealership because people MIGHT ASSUME that I took my car there? Um, fuck off? Maybe you shouldn't have complete morons working at your dealership.
I am just so incredibly over Facebook. From now on, I will save my rants, raves and everything else for my blog. Where it belongs. Where no one knows who I am and I can say whatever the fuck I please.
And if you don't like the word fuck, you probably shouldn't read my blog.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Thursday, November 10, 2011
November 10
November 10 is a day that holds a special place in my heart. It is my good friend's birthday today. Sadly, it is also the birthday of her first-born son who was tragically killed in a car accident just over a year ago. He would have been three years old today. This is, by far, the most heart-wrenching happening in my life to date. It hit me hard for a couple of reasons: My friend just happens to be a God-loving Christian-a wonderful person who wanted nothing more out of life than to be a mother. For this to happen to her was beyond my comprehension. How could God have let this happen? The second reason this affected me so deeply is because my son was only 14 months old when it happened. Not too much younger than the tender age her son was, 22 months, when his life was cut so short. I still think about it every day. You could be driving to a Labor Day picnic and the next thing you know, someone who was speeding has hit your car. And then your child is gone from this world. Just like that. It has forever changed who I am as both a mother and a friend.
I think about her and her family every single day. But on this day, my thoughts are kicked into overdrive and my heart is so heavy it almost hurts. With two other small children (baby boy, who survived the car accident, is now 1-1/2; and baby girl was born just a couple of months ago), my friend has no choice but to continue living life. I thank God that she has these other two children. Without them, I fear she and her husband would be lost souls.
Just recently, my friend and I have started communicating more again. She was so out of touch for a while after the accident. Understandably so, and I did not know how to handle such a delicate situation. I just let her know that I was there whenever she needed me. I would call and send messages, most with no response. And that was OK.
I am delighted to hear from her more, and we even hit the road to visit her and the new baby a couple of weeks ago. She seems to be doing great. I worry, though, how this day will affect her. Her birthday will never be the same again. It will no longer be a day of celebration, but a day of memories and could have beens. I pray that she finds the solace and comfort needed on this day. Time will make it easier, but it will never go away.
I know that little Angel is smiling down on his mommy today. Happy birthday to one sweet angel in heaven and one here, on Earth.
I think about her and her family every single day. But on this day, my thoughts are kicked into overdrive and my heart is so heavy it almost hurts. With two other small children (baby boy, who survived the car accident, is now 1-1/2; and baby girl was born just a couple of months ago), my friend has no choice but to continue living life. I thank God that she has these other two children. Without them, I fear she and her husband would be lost souls.
Just recently, my friend and I have started communicating more again. She was so out of touch for a while after the accident. Understandably so, and I did not know how to handle such a delicate situation. I just let her know that I was there whenever she needed me. I would call and send messages, most with no response. And that was OK.
I am delighted to hear from her more, and we even hit the road to visit her and the new baby a couple of weeks ago. She seems to be doing great. I worry, though, how this day will affect her. Her birthday will never be the same again. It will no longer be a day of celebration, but a day of memories and could have beens. I pray that she finds the solace and comfort needed on this day. Time will make it easier, but it will never go away.
I know that little Angel is smiling down on his mommy today. Happy birthday to one sweet angel in heaven and one here, on Earth.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Rich bride, poor bride
We're heading out of town this weekend for a friend's nuptials. Every time I attend a wedding, I'm reminded of my two marriages/weddings and how vastly different they were. This is one of the hundreds of book ideas I have swirling about my cerebral cavity. Tentative title: Rich Bride, Poor Bride. It's a story of my two weddings, but more importantly, a story of what's wrong today in regard to marriage. We're all a bit too focused on the 'wedding,' and not focused at all on what really matters-the marriage. Kim Kardashian's multi-million dollar wedding, resulting in a marriage that lasted only 72 days, could not have come at a better time to support my thoughts.
Every time I have conversations about this topic with my mom, who has been married to my dad for 40 years, she tells me the story of her wedding. Her and my father were married on a Friday evening in their church, surrounded by about 150 of their closest family and friends (this is a lot of people for back then, but my grandparents were well-known in the community for all of their charity and involvement-I'll be writing a lot about them at another time). Her bridesmaids, all three of them, wore rented dresses. Their reception, in the church's basement Fellowship Hall, featured cake, nuts and punch. The whole shendig probably cost around a hundred dollars. Result? A 40-year marriage. A perfect one? Definitely not. But they made vows and stuck it out-for better and for worse. It seems like today, when the 'worse' part comes, people just jump ship. It's so easy to get out of a marriage these days because everyone's doing it. There's no longer any shame in saying 'I'm divorced.'
And I'm speaking from experience here because I, too, jumped ship when things got tough. I got married the first time when I was 25 years old, to a man I had been dating for 6 years. We had dated throughout college, and I moved away from my family to live with him near his family after I graduated. We had a pretty dysfunctional relationship (stories for another time), but we had it pretty good. I was a 23-year-old college grad, had a pretty good job, and lived in a house that was bigger than the one I had grown up in. My mom would constantly ask when we were getting married. To her, we were 'living in sin.' It became a running joke, but I knew she really meant it. When he proposed, with an incredible 1.25 carat diamond ring, I couldn't really say no...so, I said yes. He proposed in January, and we were set to marry in October of that year. I had so many doubts, but thought it was just cold feet and that this was 'the right thing to do.' Although I had so many dreams yet to be accomplished, so many unfinished desires, I thought it was time to marry him and start the life that everyone is supposed to have.
After a close to $40,000 wedding and a year of not-so-wedded bliss (we didn't even have sex on our one-year anniversary), I couldn't stand the thought of who I'd become, or who I was on the road to becoming. I literally had flashes/dreams/nightmares of my future self. I saw an old woman, wrinkled and sad, with defeat clouding her eyes. I was a divorced drunk (my father was an alcoholic, again, stories for another time). I had money, but I hated my life. I had children, which I always wanted, but I was miserable. I can't explain how clear these visions were. I felt like I was literally seeing my future. The day I found myself wishing that husband's plane would crash while on the way home from a business trip was the day I decided I did not want this life. This beautiful on the outside but cold and hard on the inside life.
Wedding number one-beautiful, gorgeous, over-the-top, wedding number one-with a $40K tab, resulted in a short-lived marriage. Why? Because I got caught up in the wedding. The dress, the flowers, the party. Getting that life that I should have. Planning the life-altering event that I thought I, and everyone else, wanted.
Fast forward two years later, following a disgusting divorce that took nearly a year, to my new life in the city, which is where I'd always wanted to be. I'd dated a few guys (stories for the book), but had just met someone at my new job that I genuinely liked. He wasn't like anyone I'd met before. He was a real, working man. He was poor, but rich in spirit and all of the qualities that mattered. Total opposite of husband #1. We met and fell in love in a matter of weeks. Literally. I thought I was crazy. My family and friends thought I was crazy. Especially since new man was Mexican and not exactly 'legit' (stories for the book). But I didn't care. We made each other happy. He moved in with me after about 5 months of dating, and after about two more months, we were overjoyed at the fact that I was expecting our first child. At three months pregnant, we married in the courthouse, just us and the judge, wearing brand-spankin-new outfits from Target. Total cost of the wedding, including train fare downtown? Around $80. Result? So far, so good. Things aren't always perfect, but this time I'm in it for the right reasons. I got married because this is the man I love (not because I was pregnant). The man I want to go through difficult times with, and then come out stronger and more closely bonded. We've had our tough times (stories for the book), but the d word has never once crossed my mind.
This poor bride, now with a beautiful, healthy son and a wonderful, well-paying job, has been married for almost 3 years. More than twice as long as rich bride.
Every time I attend a fancy to-do, I pray that the two people at the front are doing it for the right reasons. I pray that they are truly in love and that they realize what really matters is that they are marrying each other-not the overdone floral arrangements; the ridiculously expensive dresses; the five-course meal. People become so engrossed in planning these fairy tale weddings that they're forgetting who they're meeting at the end of the aisle.
Every time I have conversations about this topic with my mom, who has been married to my dad for 40 years, she tells me the story of her wedding. Her and my father were married on a Friday evening in their church, surrounded by about 150 of their closest family and friends (this is a lot of people for back then, but my grandparents were well-known in the community for all of their charity and involvement-I'll be writing a lot about them at another time). Her bridesmaids, all three of them, wore rented dresses. Their reception, in the church's basement Fellowship Hall, featured cake, nuts and punch. The whole shendig probably cost around a hundred dollars. Result? A 40-year marriage. A perfect one? Definitely not. But they made vows and stuck it out-for better and for worse. It seems like today, when the 'worse' part comes, people just jump ship. It's so easy to get out of a marriage these days because everyone's doing it. There's no longer any shame in saying 'I'm divorced.'
And I'm speaking from experience here because I, too, jumped ship when things got tough. I got married the first time when I was 25 years old, to a man I had been dating for 6 years. We had dated throughout college, and I moved away from my family to live with him near his family after I graduated. We had a pretty dysfunctional relationship (stories for another time), but we had it pretty good. I was a 23-year-old college grad, had a pretty good job, and lived in a house that was bigger than the one I had grown up in. My mom would constantly ask when we were getting married. To her, we were 'living in sin.' It became a running joke, but I knew she really meant it. When he proposed, with an incredible 1.25 carat diamond ring, I couldn't really say no...so, I said yes. He proposed in January, and we were set to marry in October of that year. I had so many doubts, but thought it was just cold feet and that this was 'the right thing to do.' Although I had so many dreams yet to be accomplished, so many unfinished desires, I thought it was time to marry him and start the life that everyone is supposed to have.
After a close to $40,000 wedding and a year of not-so-wedded bliss (we didn't even have sex on our one-year anniversary), I couldn't stand the thought of who I'd become, or who I was on the road to becoming. I literally had flashes/dreams/nightmares of my future self. I saw an old woman, wrinkled and sad, with defeat clouding her eyes. I was a divorced drunk (my father was an alcoholic, again, stories for another time). I had money, but I hated my life. I had children, which I always wanted, but I was miserable. I can't explain how clear these visions were. I felt like I was literally seeing my future. The day I found myself wishing that husband's plane would crash while on the way home from a business trip was the day I decided I did not want this life. This beautiful on the outside but cold and hard on the inside life.
Wedding number one-beautiful, gorgeous, over-the-top, wedding number one-with a $40K tab, resulted in a short-lived marriage. Why? Because I got caught up in the wedding. The dress, the flowers, the party. Getting that life that I should have. Planning the life-altering event that I thought I, and everyone else, wanted.
Fast forward two years later, following a disgusting divorce that took nearly a year, to my new life in the city, which is where I'd always wanted to be. I'd dated a few guys (stories for the book), but had just met someone at my new job that I genuinely liked. He wasn't like anyone I'd met before. He was a real, working man. He was poor, but rich in spirit and all of the qualities that mattered. Total opposite of husband #1. We met and fell in love in a matter of weeks. Literally. I thought I was crazy. My family and friends thought I was crazy. Especially since new man was Mexican and not exactly 'legit' (stories for the book). But I didn't care. We made each other happy. He moved in with me after about 5 months of dating, and after about two more months, we were overjoyed at the fact that I was expecting our first child. At three months pregnant, we married in the courthouse, just us and the judge, wearing brand-spankin-new outfits from Target. Total cost of the wedding, including train fare downtown? Around $80. Result? So far, so good. Things aren't always perfect, but this time I'm in it for the right reasons. I got married because this is the man I love (not because I was pregnant). The man I want to go through difficult times with, and then come out stronger and more closely bonded. We've had our tough times (stories for the book), but the d word has never once crossed my mind.
This poor bride, now with a beautiful, healthy son and a wonderful, well-paying job, has been married for almost 3 years. More than twice as long as rich bride.
Every time I attend a fancy to-do, I pray that the two people at the front are doing it for the right reasons. I pray that they are truly in love and that they realize what really matters is that they are marrying each other-not the overdone floral arrangements; the ridiculously expensive dresses; the five-course meal. People become so engrossed in planning these fairy tale weddings that they're forgetting who they're meeting at the end of the aisle.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
My first blog!
Here we go.............this is my first ever blog! I'm just a little excited :) I used to be a writer. Well, I suppose I still am, but have just been dormant for a long time while life threw everything it possibly could at me. It's been quite a trip these past 4 and a half years...I was married, divorced, laid off, pregnant and then married again, with a whole lot of juicy happenings sprinkled throughout. I've learned a great deal about myself and about life, and I'm ready to start speaking my mind again. I feel that I've been too quiet for too long...and I don't really care who's listening, I just want to put it all out there! Writing used to be my job-I was a newspaper reporter and then later a medical catalog writer (how exciting that was). I want to get back to the place where I'm comfortable with my writing. I want to write books, and this is my first step in eventually reaching that goal. More to come!
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