Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Tuesday Was Just Another Day

7:25 am Wake up just in time to get ready for work
7:55 am Drive as fast as possible, only to be continually waylaid by slow-ass bitches who refuse to drive like they have someplace to go
8:29 am Make it into my seat just as 8:30 am hits
8:34 am Wish my boyfriend didn't live so far away from my job
1:00 pm Have a weird combo of leftovers for lunch that equal so much crap
2:15 pm Begin the post lunch "wish I were leaving now" meditation
4:30 pm Get through the day with relative ease
5:00 pm Head back to the boy's place only to arrive completely starving
5:15 pm Demand boy cook for me as I nibble anything that doesn't move (too hungry - got no time for killin')
5:59 pm Try not to scarf pasta as boy and I watch The Simpsons, but do so anyway
6:00 pm Feel out of sorts from normal monthly...frustration
6:30 pm Watch as Tux tries to jump onto the window sill and instead hits his head on the closed window
6:33 pm Laugh and enjoy being kinda mean
6:45 pm Drive boy and myself to movie theater for a review assignment
6:49 pm Become irritated with driver who denies his/her ability to merge already and scream shrilly and loudly at them
6:50 pm Scare the boy in his passenger's seat and make him get reeeeeeeeal quiet so I don't take anger out on him
7:00 pm Giggle hysterically at myself as boy tries to change the subject
7:10 pm Find our press seats in theater and listen as boy boisterously extols the virtues of Pamprin and Midol to me
7:10 pm Fight urge to throw boy from press seats into movie screen
7:20 pm Smile at Asian lady who hears my boy say "I don't want you to do this for me, I want you to do this for your period. I can't stand seeing your period make you like this anymore. I mean, if those lady period medicines can help relieve the stress from your period then you should get some. To help. With your period."
7:30 pm Watch the movie
9:10 pm Leave the movie and go the wrong way as driving home
9:45 pm Arrive home and have boy feed me headache meds and make me pink lemonade
10:05 pm Relax with a magazine
11:12 pm Watch as Tux captures a baby wasp
11:15 pm Look on in horror as Tux eats the baby wasp
1:00 am Lay down to sleep
1:30 am Get up when it becomes obvious I can't sleep even though I'm fucked up tired
2:55 am Finally sleep

Tuesday, August 29, 2006


A divorce can follow you for a long time. My dad left my mom 12 years ago and just when you think all the crap is over something else happens.

About a month ago my mom's alimony check suddenly dwindled to almost nothing. She was given a nice portion of his wages and pension for life in the final settlement. (I realize that may sound harsh to a lot of people, but when he decided to leave he did it in such backhanded way that pretty much anyone would want, at least, to get money out of him.) Anyway, she had to call her lawyer and go to court. Of course he showed up without his attorney, so everything had to be rescheduled.

Mom went back to court last Monday. Turns out my dad retired. Because he had to. Because he has cancer. In his leg.

I don't know what to say about this. Mom told me because she promised me all those years ago when this crap was just starting that she'd never keep any of this from me. Since I told her I'd want to know. Well, ok, but here's the thing. I haven't spoken to my dad since December 1994. I haven't seen him (on purpose) in that same amount of time. He and his family treated my mom horribly when he left, even though he was the one doing all the dirt. I decided I couldn't deal with someone who'd treat my mother so shittily, so I cut him & his out.

He sent me a letter, by way of mom, in August of 2004. I read it. I kept it. But I never contacted him. I had no interest in it.

So now he's sick, and I still don't want anything to do with him. Am I terrible? Wouldn't it be worse to force a conversation with him just because he's got cancer? That would be disingenuous. Like lying. I simply don't have time for it. But I wonder all the same, does this make me a cold, evil bitch?

I found out about this on Sunday and have been able to go about my business without thinking about it until the writing of this entry. I'm so used to not thinking about that man that having to think about him at all is off-putting. I hate giving mental space to him just for this 10 minute span of time. Really? I'm not sure why I'm asking these questions. I have no intention of calling/writing/seeing him just because someone random believes I should. Even if mom, when I asked her the same thing, had said "Yes, you are cold, sick, devilish and horrid my darling daughter", I would not have contacted him just for that. It would not have been an honest response to the situation. Why is it that I seem to care what you think? When I don't?


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