Archive for July 4, 2006

Warning, Never Marry a Creative Person

There is a part of me that feels very sorry for people who marry musicians, artists, writers or comedians. When things are happy – it ends up in their work. When things are sad, yup, right there in their work. For all the world to see, which, if you’re the creative person, is the point. It’s not enough to just FEEL, we have to EXPRESS. The country group, Rascal Flats, has absolutely summed up my feelings right now. A new song, to replace my tainted love song:

I should be out in that driveway stoping you
Tears should be rolling down my cheek and I
don’t know why I’m not falling apart like I usually do
and the thought of losing you’s not killing me.
I feel bad….
That I can stand here strong, cold as stone, seems so wrong…
I feel bad, that I don’t feel bad.

Can you imagine being married to an artist? You stumble by their latest show and there’s your picture painted with arrows through your eye, or a foot protruding from your forehead. If you’ve married an interior decorator, and you come home to find your entire house has been painted pink… she’s probably done with you.

I can let myself be angry over wasted time, sad about just throwing
love away.
I almost wish my heart was breaking, but I can’t lie
All I want to do is turn the page.
I feel bad, that I don’t feel bad.

There’s a lot to resolve, so much to do to make two lives out of one. And I do feel bad, that I don’t feel bad. Pap has several fine qualities, unfortunately, the deal breaker is his modus operandi.

I feel bad that I don’t feel bitter, alone
I just feel that’s it time to move on.

July 4, 2006 at 4:35 pm 2 comments


This year’s 4th of July will be remembered for thunderstorms outside… and in. Poor Ruger is so afraid of thunder and lightening. At the first sign, he runs for cover. I would do the same if there was a desk in this house big enough for me to duck under. Speaking of big… Princess and I lost a combined total of 4 wopping pounds after our first week of pain (3 for her, 1 for me). How much does that suck… 7 days of pain for one lousy pound. Of course that doesn’t count the 250 pounds of lieing dead weight that was also shed this week. Speaking of Pap…

In his typical manic depressive, passive aggressive fashion, rather than tell the truth and save his 25 year old marriage, he’s checked himself into the hospital. For a blister on his foot. I know, my interior intelligent woman is just shaking her head and mocking me like crazy. Because I’m usually a nice person, I’m sure I will eventually drag up some compassion and make an attempt to understand whatever mental illness it is that makes him unable to admit he’s made a mistake. But maybe I won’t, because look at where compassion and understanding has got me so far. In the mean time, while I’m feeling bitchy and very mean – I’m using that energy to get some organizing done around this dump. All his little flotsam and jetsam into the trash. His weird trophies and collectables straight into a box and down to the basement.

A male friend once told me that the true difference between men and women is how they treat relationships. He said that men will dither and float, come and go before they actually throw in the towel. When a woman is done. She’s done. There’s no changing her mind. I agree with him to a point. Men start dithering at the first sign of trouble, and float back when the storm has blown over. Women are done when we say we are, because we’ve been working on the problems, and know a lost cause when we see one.

July 4, 2006 at 7:24 am Leave a comment

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Shortly after I learned to use a spoon, I learned to use a pencil. Crippled by shyness as a child, I found that the things I couldn't say out loud, I could say with a pen, and then a typewriter. The shyness was overcome with education and age...but the need to write has never left me.

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July 2006