Wednesday, August 26, 2009

WRITE BITCH WRITE

Write bitch write. Those are the only words of advice I have for myself. It’s been over a year since I quit writing altogether. No more online journal entries, no more stories on napkins not even mini notebooks. Nothing.

I quit altogether. Other than two cathartic poems that haunt me, I have nothing to show for an entire year of my life. It is the first time in 15 years that I have no record of my life, my emotions, or the stories in my head.

Today I read that writer Dominick Dunne died. When I read his novel “The Two Mrs. Grenvilles” I was captivated. It was a novel that I could not put down, and yet, I did not like the style of writing. The juxtaposition of fascination and boredom was my first foray into the knowledge that an ability to write well (or at least to tell a story well) supersedes my passion for specific styles of writing. I just read that despite the murder of his daughter, he completed work on the very novel I could not put down; this, despite the mourning and emotional turmoil in which he was engaged.

If, Mr. Dunne could write despite the most debilitating of all events (the death of a child), why would I allow myself to stop writing? It is foolhardy and egotistical to assume that my problems and pains are of greater store than his.

So WRITE BITCH WRITE.

I’ll be taking my advice.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Upside down you're turning me...

Dearest Internets,

By now you are well versed in the fact that Bounce is ape shit crazy.

But now I am treading in waters I've never been in... and I'm scared that a tidal wave will bowl me over and leave me a tattered mess at the bottom of the waters.

And there is so much updating to do - this may be a multi pronged story.

So let's start at the beginning.

When I first met D, he was a "random". There was no expectation of anything beyond the obvious. As the nature of our relationship changed, so did our expectations. And then I found out that he was a "recreational" drug user. Which, call it what you will, I call a drug abuser.

We had a very dark and dysfunctional time of it at the height of his drug use. Somehow we prevailed. Somehow he managed to pull himself off the drugs. Somehow, he managed to live "one day at a time". It was the beginning of a rebirth of sorts for us.

He opened up to me about all sorts of secrets that he'd kept compartmentalized from me. Things of which I had no idea. Some things fell into place once the truth came out, but in another way it opened up a whole new set of questions and queries. We went through another set of dysfunctional weeks with me questioning his every move, giving him no leeway to breathe.

And then some joy came into his life. He reconnected with the mother of his children and was suddenly able to have phone calls with them (the girls) again. He started sending child support again.

Things changed.

Two weeks after the joy in his life, he received a devastating call from the mother of his children (let's call her G-lady). D's mother was being rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. There were phonecalls back and forth that evening. By the time we were winging our way to the province of his birth, the woman who had power of attorney over his mother had already had the life support removed. His mother passed away three hours before our plane touched down.

G-lady, her fiance, and D's oldest daughter were at the airport waiting for us. It was a difficult reunion of sorts. It was the first time he'd seen his daughter in 4 years, and the first time he'd seen the G-lady since demonizing her in his mind. Circumstances were now entirely different. The G-lady was looking after his mother and his grandmother. She was raising not only his daughters, but her and her fiance were raising the fiance's three daughters.

The week we spent in the province of his birth was an absolute dichotomy of emotions - the joy of reunions, and the sorrow of the passing of a beloved mother. He reconnected with both daughters (heretofore known as D1 and D2), he spent time with his best childhood friend, he spent time with his brother, we spent time with his grandmother and we spent time with G-lady and the rest of her family.

I was touched and fully absorbed into the joy and the sorrow of the occasion.

There were very few bumps on the road to his reconnection with his daughters. And a whole new path had been forged for us.

Talks began of us eventually moving back to the province of his birth. G-lady was very strident about it, as she recognizes that her children need to know their father. I was utterly charmed by the idea of being a part of this instant family. I fell in love with his grandmother and his daughters.

G-lady and I forged a slightly uncomfortable but not strained bond with each other. Both recognizing that in order for us to accomplish what we want, we need to be in each other's corner.

After the week of sorrow and joy, we returned to our province.

The love that D and I showed to each other thereafter was a sight to behold. We had grown stronger during that week as a unit, and looked forward to a positive future together.

A few weeks later, G-lady called and asked if I would mind flying back to help clean out D's mother's apartment. For me this is not some feat of amazing fortitude and funds, as I am still on Mr Neighbour's airline passes. I agreed and spent a day with the G-lady and D's cousin, working on the apartment.

Sidenote.

In an earlier conversation with the G-lady, she was careful to piss in all the corners, i.e mark her territory. And whilst I understand that emotion, I thought it unnecessary.

G-lady: D1 seems to be having a better time of things lately. She's showing much more respect to my fiance now that her father is in the picture.

Bounce;
Excellent. I'm sure her father has much to do with that, as he told both D1 and D2 how much he liked and respected your fiance.

G-lady: Yes, D1 was just saying that it's ok that she has two fathers, because she can love them both. Of course she said that she only has one mother, and I agreed. She asked if she had to like you, and I said "no, but you do have to show her respect";

Now I ask you with tears in my baby blue eyes... was that necessary - of course not - it was simply a dig. But I took it for what it was - and let it go.

Bounce: exactly G-lady, she's entitled to feel anyway she likes especially in such a confusing time when suddenly her father has reappeared in her life and is bringing along someone new. I fully understand that.

Which god help me - is the truth - who wouldn't understand that.

*********************************************************************************

Well the weekend I went out to help move, G-lady told me that she hadn't informed the girls about my being in the province, as "it would just confuse them that you're here and their father isn't".

Unfortunately G-lady hadn't thought about the transportation logistics and realized that the girls would actually have to see me after all.

When we met up with them at the end of the day, who was the first one to come running into my arms - thrilled to pieces to see me? Why none other than D1.

mmmmhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm (hope you can see my neck weeble and wobble with that mmmmm-hmmmmmmmmmmm)

**********************************************************************************

Anyway.... neither here nor there - that's just me being silly and petty

**********************************************************************************

As the weeks went on, I joked with W.I.B that I had become G-lady's "go-to girl".
G-lady started calling me with silly little things. W.I.B questions whether or not she even has friends.
But the fact is, it must be hard for her to maintain friendships. She's the lost generation - the one with the most stress. She's caretaker to D's grandmother and caretaker to five children. When would one even have time to nurture friendships in a scenario like that.

She's a good person. She wants what's best for those around her.
She has raised the children phenomenally. She works hard.
Absolutely, she's strident and bossy and a know it all... but good lord ... the girl has to be in her situation. A wimp could not do what she does.

************************************************************************************

Which brings us to her most recent request... the one where I felt manipulated, and used and like a pawn... but more later folks... I have carpal tunnel from writing this little missive already....

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Won't you take me to Funky Town

Ok, So last week I was in a funk.

And now time for Bounce's True Confessions.

I am a jealous crazy insecure freak.

The reason I was really in a funk was because I was snooping through D's email. And the more I read these missives back and forth between the ex, the more hysterical I was getting.

Finally one morning I called home from work.

"Honey, you need to change your passwords. I've been reading EVERYTHING"

"ok, babe, sure"

"Nooooooooooooo, I don't think you understand... I mean I've read EVERYTHING. Every Email back and Forth. ALL of it."

"Ok, babe, what are you saying?"

"UMMMMMMMMMMMM are you not listening, I read ALL your emails."

"Ya, I got that, but I'm not getting what you're saying...there was nothing in them that I was hiding from you."

"Ummmmmmmmmmm, are you kidding me?"

"No, there was some reminiscing with an old friend, but nothing I'd be worried for you to see."

Now in my head I'm thinking, "you've got to be effing kidding me?!?!??! He really sees nothing wrong with the emails back and forth!?!?!?! Is this some sort of weird ploy to keep me on my toes?!?!?!?"

Instead I say, "Babe, that wasn't just reminiscing, that was full on discussion about former sex lives... that is just not acceptable in the realms of this relationship?"

"Oh, I never really saw it as that, but ok babe, I just won't talk about it again, honestly it's no big deal, I'm sorry if I hurt you, but it was never meant to be like that. Don't forget I'm the one who gave you my password. If I had anything to hide, I never would have given you my password."

Well at this point a little of the bluster and fluster falls from my sails. I don't really have a response.

"Well babes for the sake of this relationship can you kybosh any sexual talk?"

"Of course honey, no problem, I'm sorry."

And god help me that was that.

There was no hidden agenda, he really is that obtuse, and now he knows that I'm bat shit crazy.

Gawd, I loves me my man.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

SUNK INTO A FUNK

I've sunk into a funk. I love the way that sounds. But the truth is I hate the way it feels. My worklife is complicated. I've more than stagnated at work, I've started back sliding. I am going to make the ridiculous decision to take a backwards step at work so that I can improve my standing in the company. The theory being that once I've reproven myself I can finally advance again. But it feels like a losing proposition.


I've sunk into a funk. I love the way that sounds. But the truth is I hate the way it feels. My relationship with D is complicated. Or Not... He loves me, I love him, but I resent the intimacy his exes perpetrate in their little love notes and emails to him. I hate that he buys into it and enjoys the frisson of pleasure that these little lust rekindling notes evoke. I fear that they're a gateway to an emotional affair. The longer they go on, the more likely an emotional affair is bound to happen... I've read blogs... I know these things. It's pointless to ask for complete and open access to each other's accounts, because what's to stop him from opening a secret one. And then we become a couple filled with secrets and lies, as opposed to an insecure female and an ego driven male.


I've sunk into a funk. I love the way that sounds. But the truth is I hate the way it feels. My relationship with my family is complicated. I crave having family in my life. The truth is though that I push them away or keep them at arm's length at all times. I want them to love me, I want to love them, but I fear that amount of emotional commitment. I'm a commitment-phobe in all my relationships apparently.

I've sunk into a funk. I love the way that sounds. But the truth is I hate the way it feels. I've isolated myself. I don't socialize with my friends the way I used to. I'm always "double booking myself" or too busy to see them, when the truth is I'm really hiding at home. I haven't double booked myself, I just don't want to see anyone. I want to wrap myself up in a cocoon of self loathing and shame, and never emerge. It's working.

I've sunk into a funk. I love the way that sounds. But the truth is I hate the way it feels. My weight has stagnated. I now weigh 185lbs. This is over 120 lbs less than I was at my biggest. I feel the same when I look in the mirror. I may have some form of body dismorphia. I never felt like I weighed over 300 lbs and now I don't feel like I weigh under 200 lbs. It's possible that at 240 lbs I was more open to people than I am now, but I received far more admiring glances and secret smiles then, then I do now... ahhh the mighty ego boost, how little it takes.

I've sunk into a funk. I love the way that sounds. But the truth is I hate the way it feels.

Monday, February 09, 2009

The Sweater

Who Remembers THIS Song?



Yesterday I wore the Sweater belonging to a boy.
Well my boy.
And there really is something glorious about wearing the sweater belonging to a boy... and more importantly when the sweater belongs to "your boy" there's something beyond glorious.

This is thrilling for me on two counts.
Firstly, I was never ever "small enough" to fit into any boy's sweater.
Secondly, it's my boy's sweater... and when he sees it on me, he knows I'm wearing his sweater, I know he knows I'm wearing his sweater, and well... we know. And that makes me happy.

**************************************************************************

This last week, me and my man moved into our own place.
We love it.
We're keeping it relatively neat (for me this is an amazing accomplishment on an amazing scale). I love my new Roomba ... I will willingly do commercials for them.

We love the sunshine - We hated living in the dungeon - aka. the basement.

We love the freedom to make noise. (By god internets... and i can make a lot of noise.)

And I am loving the freedom we have to do all the things that make me make noise. NO GUILT!!!!!

And I love wearing his sweater.

****************************************************************************
 
BOUNCE. Design by Exotic Mommie. Illustraion By DaPino