mynewplace

(This entry accompanied by the sound of fingers tapping on my desk)

I've been waiting for this to happen.  I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because a few months ago I heard that while accompanying her bizarre sister Britney, Jamie Lynn Spears used some filthy language with a reporter/papparazi.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with the pre-teen scene, Jamie Lynn is the GOOD Spears who appears on Nickelodeon in a series called "Zoey 101".  She is Zoey. She is adored.  She portrays a 14 or so year old girl, who is kind and clever and popular. (blahblahblah, yanno?)  So the language said to me "Ehh, she's gonna be trouble one day." Similar to Lindsey Lohan, or Britney herself. 



Dammit.  Jamie's pregnant. She's sixteen, living with a 19 year old boyfriend (or rather he's living with HER since she brings in the bucks) and preggers.  They announced it on Bob and Tom this morning, decrying it with "Where are the parents??"  Well duh! They're trying to navigate the shark-infested waters surrounding their grandchildren!!  Who has time for a fairly well-behaved 16 year old girl who should be learning how NOT to act from her big sister?  

Scarlett of course heard it, and said "What what what?? How did THAT happen????"  

To which I responded "Sex, honey.  She's having sex." 

siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh

I am counting on her personal experience as a child born out of wedlock to prevent her from having sex too early.  I KNOW I need to do more that that.  siiiiiiiiiiiigh again

We put up the tree last night.  Not finished, but at least started and moved furniture around.  Cats aren't interested enough to climb it, are merely batting at ornaments so far.  SO FAR.

Cable (and thus intranets) is off.  I suspected it was coming. Just didn't know when.  Eh, doesn't matter. She'll be gone by Friday, and I might get it taken care of next week.  Might not.  I miss my intranets, but such is life, yes? I have gifts to buy, and groceries. So in exchange, no cable.  I can live with that.

She won't go to sleep. She's been in there an hour, and won't quit talking to herself. 

I want to eat something, but apparently whatever it is I want to eat isn't in my kitchen. My knees are cold from standing in front of the refrigerator. 

Brent called, and was beyond conversation.  He said "There comes a point where you care less about yourself, and more about the night."

To which I replied: "Feeling a bit melodramatic, are we?"  He was offended. I don't give a shit.

He's calling back. I'm not answering. 

I think I might go to bed.

I read in the snopes LJ feed that a man is warning America about impending attacks, sometimes with some accuracy.  I found it intriguing, then disheartening when I learned that our government may be planning an attack on Iran and Syria.  I know there are likely terrorist cells in these countries, but I have many Syrian friends. Yes, I care more when I know someone from the country in question.  I can't help that.  It disturbs me to think that our country might attack YET another country. I'm so sick of this. Mr Aviv says we approached the situation in the wrong manner, and I tend to agree with his thinking.  

To continue with my liberal train of thought, here's a poem from the most recently named United States Poet Laureate, Charles Simic:

Eyes Fastened With Pins
by Charles Simic 

How much death works,
No one knows what a long
Day he puts in. The little
Wife always alone
Ironing death's laundry.
The beautiful daughters
Setting death's supper table.
The neighbors playing
Pinochle in the backyard
Or just sitting on the steps
Drinking beer. Death,
Meanwhile, in a strange
Part of town looking for
Someone with a bad cough,
But the address somehow wrong,
Even death can't figure it out
Among all the locked doors...
And the rain beginning to fall.
Long windy night ahead.
Death with not even a newspaper
To cover his head, not even
A dime to call the one pining away,
Undressing slowly, sleepily,
And stretching naked
On death's side of the bed.


I like his imagery.  How is this liberal? Well my dad says the Pulitzer Prize is a piece of crap awarded to liberal media like the New York Times for stories slamming our government.  Mr. Simic is a Pulitzer Prize winner for his poetry.  Since I find myself envying Jhumpa Lahiri her Prize for her short stories, it stands to reason I'd aspire to such.  Thus, liberal, no? 

Schlotzsky's Deli - Funny Name, Serious Sandwich.  Even more serious Thai Chicken Pizza, with shredded carrots and onions and peanut sauce. mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Southern Kitchen.  A staple for those who party at bars into the wee hours, open and serving breakfast all night.  The marquee sign says "Serving o_d food for 47 years"  Old food? Odd food? Yeah, I know, Good food, and it really is. If you like southern cooking. Which I do.

Hooters uses Heiners buns. How quaint. 

There are at least three nice restaurants or fast food joints within walking distance from Brent's new apartment. 

Woman in SUV with clever Mickey Mouse tow ball cover. I pull up next to her at the light, and get out of my car.  I knock on the window, noticing she's a lovely slim brunette with scrubs on.  She buzzes the window down and I say "Scuse me, but you should get your blinkers repaired, as neither the front nor the back lights are working.  I'm certain that you, being a medical professional, are aware of how dangerous it is to drive an illegal vehicle. I'm also assuming that you, as a medical professional, are far too intelligent to turn corners and merge in traffic WITHOUT USING YOUR BLINKERS.  Aren'tchoo?"  *insert smirk here, and subtle finger gesture* "Have a good day."

Okay, no, not really. But dammit one a these days, Alice!!!! BAM! Right in the kisser!

And upon my entering the lane approaching the office, idiot number two decides to pull out from behind stopped car waiting to turn and join me in said lane, pulling out quickly enough that he could have struck me if I hadn't sped up. Sans blinker of course, because he goes to the same driving school as bimbette up there, whose trip to the post office was SO urgent she couldn't be bothered to turn on her blinker while riffling through her purse at the stop light. Thank you.

I'm all ferhoodled.  I'm truly overwhelmed with this whole "find a home" thing, to the point of tears this morning.  I've consistently made poor financial decisions, all my life - I've never been good with money, because as a young woman I figured I'd find someone who was good with money, and I'd bring my assets to the table, while he'd bring his.  But he never showed up, and I lost a really good job, quit another, got overwhelmed with depression, had to drop out of school due to my pregnancy, and here I am.  Making enough that most folks could get by, but I barely seem to get from one paycheck to another.  I'm extravagant, thoughtless, and have no sense of the future. 

Okay, enough trashing me.  I have no freakin' idea what I'm going to do about a house and it's freakin' me out.  

I'm just gonna have to suck it up and deal.

I never use my "Happy girl" icon any more.  :-(  

My friend Nancy (to be distinguished from Brent's friend Nancy) says she's not sure why God put men on this earth, but she's sure he had a reason.  I told her I think it's so we women could learn control before the children came. Same reason he put dogs here.  

This is probably the worst Friday the 13th I've ever had, so far.  I usually have really good luck on Friday the 13th.  Not yet today. If I get a chance to smack Brent upside the head, my luck might turn.  Don't ever tell a woman she has a standing invitation to your home, unless you're ready to hand her a key.  Or at least ready to tell your friends at work that you're seeing someone.  goddammit

No Brent tonight, so my luck is bound to shift.  I wish I could bring myself to do my dishes.  I fucking hate being here today.

JOLENE

Jolene
(Dolly Parton)

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
I'm begging of you please
Don't take my man
Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
Please don't take him
Just because you can

Well your beauty is beyond compare
With flaming locks of auburn hair
With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green
Your smile is like a breath of spring
Your voice is soft like summer rain
And I cannot compete with you Jolene

Well he talks about you in his sleep
And there's nothing I can do to keep from crying
When he calls your name Jolene
And I can easily understand
How you can easily take my man
But you don't know what he means to me Jolene

Well now you could have your choice of men
But I could never love again
He's the only one for me Jolene
Well I had to have this talk with you
My happiness depends on you
And whatever you decide to do Jolene

Alright, so Dolly Parton wrote a song about me. I can live with that, most of the time. Because I know that when it comes down to brass tacks, the men don't leave their cozy warm homes - most of the time. Bad girl? Always have been. But only because I like to give what they like to get, unbridled, uninhibited, impassioned mad fucking. So a good girl in a bad package. I'm not really bad, I'm just drawn that way. 

I wasn't really in the mood to cry, today is such a great day! I got a package today that I wasn't expecting - Sacred Sexuality by Georg Feuerstein. I'm SO EXCITED! I can't wait to dig into it, but I've got clothes upstairs waiting to be sorted and packed. Gotta move, gotta do, gotta get my ass in gear!  But the book got me thinking about other things Eric and I have talked about, and I had meant to give you all the link to this web-essay earlier this week, the thought just got away from me. It was eerily familiar for me, especially after Eric pointed out the paragraph says in part:

The idea is not so much a salvation from 'original sin', but salvation by restoration to the original blessing, which occurs in the unification of male and female. Accordingly, the bread represents the Logos and the wine represents the Sophia, the male and female aspects of the Christos. Thus the eucharist is a ceremony celebrating their mystical union or sacred marriage ~ the union of the Divine Masculine and Feminine through which all creation transpires, as well as redemption through divine illumination.
Here's the complete essay.

No, I hadn't read this before. I've read DaVinci Code of course, but I'd had hints of the divine union before that time, from The Divine Romance and also other places that I can't put my finger on. Andrew Greeley has had a hand in influencing me, as well. I'm just tickled that I'm not the only person to ever come to this conclusion. I just wish there was some place I could go for some face to face interaction with other people who believe this way.

And on THAT note, I'm going to fix some lunch for my kid. Then maybe shower and pack some more. All this scrambling around in the closet has my nose stuffy and running like mad.  bleh Also got Ming creeping around like a stealth missile.