My last post was July 16th. Today is December 21st. And while the end of the world did not happen today (unless this is all a dream), five months have gone by and I really don't even know why I haven't written.
12 days after the last post, I met a man, J. I feel he needs recognition. I mean, my blog IS called Lisa, Love and Life, and I feel the love part hasn't been written about enough. Slow down, people. You know that by love, I usually mean the hot sex I have....uh huuuh. Ok, I laugh as I say that, but more so only because I wrote it. Back to J.....the meeting was, well, movie-esque, and here was a man, that really was my equivalent in the flirt department. Dayum. Chemistry. But more than that, this guy made me laugh. Like, really laugh. Like, everything we said to one another was funny, and it wasn't the Heineken talking. When you're hot and funny, well, dayum again. And in the male department, I have only been around few men like this. Ones that make you laugh, and, well, sparkle. And on July 28th, I really needed that. Here he was, with his adorable two friends, on a night I almost didn't even go out. He will be written about in greater detail one day. The story is just too much for this blog post tonight but it will make a great chapter in the book. Oh yes, the infamous book that has yet to see fruition. But when a story, well, a reality, happens like J, it cannot go without mention. I think I have worried him about this book, when he knows I am serious his name and events of that night will be included in my future work of art. Oh but we laugh about it, and actually still do. Five months later.
I have said to a few close friends recently, that is hard for me to believe when I am happy. Even if happiness comes in fleeting hours or lasts over just a day, or a night with this J fellow, a sense of forboding sometimes hovers around it and screams, "Lisa! How can you have happiness at a time like this?" At a time like what, I scream back, silently, of course, for I am luckily no where near crazy town (yet). But really, why can't I be happy, or better, why can't I be happy with small happiness?
Sometimes I catch myself remembering the days my babies were actual babies. I see that girl in the photos, 4, 5, 6 years ago, and sometimes wonder why I don't see that same smile much anymore. Yeah, shit has happened. Good God we know it has happened. My quest for love continues of course. But I have so much to be happy about even if the big everlasting committment or love hasn't happened yet. I have gone back to university, and with the first semester done, I really am proud to brag about my grades. Two kids and university. With my kids shouting out that I am a student like them.
It won't be with J, yes, I know this, sad but true, and the big everlasting committment or love might not happen or find me for quite some time. But I have men in my life as companions and friends, and sometimes the unlikely (ah, sweet young Tyler) become the very good friends that were never expected.
So if any of you were wondering where I have been, I am here. Still smiling as much as possible and trying to stay in the happiness moments. I am not one for many cliches, or mantras to help me move forward. To be honest, I'm kinda sick of those, haha. I read less of what people are saying out there, unless of course it makes me laugh a little more, and just try to focus on what I have versus what I don't have.
We're entering a new year. If anyone had warned me of what 2012 would bring or how fast it would go, I would have said, "nonsense". But here I am, writing about that nonsense now.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Friday, November 16, 2012
always undone
It has been months since I have written. In the space between then and now, there has been love, or I guess, lust, on a few levels. I feel I should speak of love if that's a word in my blog name, even if I haven't had the heart to cheer up the blog space and turn the black to a heart-felt, love-lust red. Black and grey can stay for now. Ok, let's get to it.
I met J on July 28th. Why I remember this is because that day and night will be forever memorable. And I really can't share ALL the details, for that book I talk about has to really be broken into (and you cats know if you'll be in it..oh, you know!)
I met J on July 28th. Why I remember this is because that day and night will be forever memorable. And I really can't share ALL the details, for that book I talk about has to really be broken into (and you cats know if you'll be in it..oh, you know!)
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Ryan and Megan
I have always believed we are meant to meet the people we meet. When you are least expecting someone to change you, or your way of seeing things, or that someone just shows you true beauty, it is all part of God's, or Fate's plan. It is your path and your destination at that moment. Perhaps you will never see or talk to that person again, but that person will settle into the creases of your mind and stay forever.
I met such a person last Saturday night. It wasn't lost on me that the meeting occurred at a bar, but I didn't care. It was as though a magnetic force pulled us together and forced a late of evening of laughter and flirting to the highest degree where feeling like we had known each other for years was an understatement. Did I mention I have not laughed like this for over a year and a half? We slightly ignored our sets of friends, found ourselves sharing phone numbers and phone pins, and knew the night would not end there.
I met such a person last Saturday night. It wasn't lost on me that the meeting occurred at a bar, but I didn't care. It was as though a magnetic force pulled us together and forced a late of evening of laughter and flirting to the highest degree where feeling like we had known each other for years was an understatement. Did I mention I have not laughed like this for over a year and a half? We slightly ignored our sets of friends, found ourselves sharing phone numbers and phone pins, and knew the night would not end there.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Party of Three
I miss my father on many levels. I miss him on occasions, like my daughter's upcoming birthday, but mostly I miss him for the daily bits- the times when I'd get his advice even if I didn't ask for it, hear his reaction to things, and hear him sum up his opinions like only my father could do; like the only male in the family could do. Above all, I miss my old family dynamic. It's true what I read, when a key person in the family dies, it changes the whole configuration of your family.
There are simply just the three of us now. I have never had a big family and the extended family we do have.....well, half my dad's side are faraway, and older with no children and the other half chose to cut us out the day my father died. Pettiness, grave unfortunate pettiness, that turned grief to spite and we were to blame for everything. My mom's family side, though quite extensive, was never really a big part of our lives, minus the weddings and reunions. I don't have cousins I reach out to, or aunts and uncles I feel close to. It's kind of sad. And now, without my father, there is simply just the three of us: my mom, my sister and I. And I miss our dynamic of being a foursome. I miss my other parent.
When you're the youngest, it is also a different dynamic in the family. I love reading about roles in a family and how birth order dictates so much, though we are all unconscious of it. The older sibling develops and is treated one way, as is the middle child and the youngest.
It's been hard during the times that I don't feel my opinion in our new family dynamic counts, or if I'm not heard. I feel bad for my mom if and when she feels she has to take sides, which of course, she does not. Or if she does, maybe it's that she takes both sides, even if both daughters are unaware. I get it, it keeps the peace.
I feel that I try to make the wrongs right, and quickly when the wrongs happen. Recently, I realized I always am the one to make it right first. I wave the white flag, say the apology and reach out first, even when I'm not sure an apology is needed. It's what I do. I don't particularly enjoy the strife of a family disagreement. I don't condone silent treatments.
But this time I won't be the white flag waver. This time I have nothing to say and to me, it's too late for anyone else to say anything now. I'm tired of the moment passing with others, if they choose to not address the issue at hand, comments made that they didn't like or agree with, then why should I worry how they react or handle things much after the fact? It is something I need to work on and I'm a slow learner, clearly. Years of not resolving things quicker and pandering to others to make them feel better and to make their fight go away. No thanks. Aren't we adults? Is it always up to the youngest? Is it a Pisces thing???!!!
Ah Dad, what would you say?
There are simply just the three of us now. I have never had a big family and the extended family we do have.....well, half my dad's side are faraway, and older with no children and the other half chose to cut us out the day my father died. Pettiness, grave unfortunate pettiness, that turned grief to spite and we were to blame for everything. My mom's family side, though quite extensive, was never really a big part of our lives, minus the weddings and reunions. I don't have cousins I reach out to, or aunts and uncles I feel close to. It's kind of sad. And now, without my father, there is simply just the three of us: my mom, my sister and I. And I miss our dynamic of being a foursome. I miss my other parent.
When you're the youngest, it is also a different dynamic in the family. I love reading about roles in a family and how birth order dictates so much, though we are all unconscious of it. The older sibling develops and is treated one way, as is the middle child and the youngest.
It's been hard during the times that I don't feel my opinion in our new family dynamic counts, or if I'm not heard. I feel bad for my mom if and when she feels she has to take sides, which of course, she does not. Or if she does, maybe it's that she takes both sides, even if both daughters are unaware. I get it, it keeps the peace.
I feel that I try to make the wrongs right, and quickly when the wrongs happen. Recently, I realized I always am the one to make it right first. I wave the white flag, say the apology and reach out first, even when I'm not sure an apology is needed. It's what I do. I don't particularly enjoy the strife of a family disagreement. I don't condone silent treatments.
But this time I won't be the white flag waver. This time I have nothing to say and to me, it's too late for anyone else to say anything now. I'm tired of the moment passing with others, if they choose to not address the issue at hand, comments made that they didn't like or agree with, then why should I worry how they react or handle things much after the fact? It is something I need to work on and I'm a slow learner, clearly. Years of not resolving things quicker and pandering to others to make them feel better and to make their fight go away. No thanks. Aren't we adults? Is it always up to the youngest? Is it a Pisces thing???!!!
Ah Dad, what would you say?
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Dad
He followed behind when I first rode my bike
Dropped shiny new coins on each long hike
Never missed a recital, a speech or a play
Taught me what was important at the end of a day.
Childhood flew, it was easy I thought
But now as a parent, I know it was not
And when I became that rebellious teen
I told him I hated him, I was only 15.
He sat a boy down, said, "It's time that you go"
"You're not to see her, if you do, I will know"
That led down a path of secrets and lies
I'm sure that he saw it, lying deep in my eyes.
Our dinners alone at the end of a week
Where I hated university and barely could sleep
Would make me feel special, would always be treasured
It was simply just dinner, amazing conversations would vary.
B.C. changed my life, even for a short time
When it didn't work out, he was the first in line
Buying the ticket that would return me back safely
No questions asked, a father protecting his baby.
I was slowly maturing, he knew it too
He got me that first big job with money that grew
The job led me out of the house and into my own
I was my own person, now fully grown.
Walked me down the aisle that sunny day in June
Our song was My Girl, the band played in the room
When I finally had my own sweet daughter, then son
His eyes teared up with immense pride, joy and love.
He gave me the best advice of my life
When the marriage fell apart and I was no longer a wife
His notes, cards and letters I still have to this day
When so many of my dreams were taken away.
A few years went by, and no one could have guessed
He would hear the word, "cancer", with one little test
He fought a bigger battle, braver than anyone I know
Never complaining, trying to remain in control.
And another day in June, this time for death
Would stop all his pain and bring eternal rest
We spoke at his funeral, and on his behalf
Evoking tears, but also the laughs.
Of a man that died with heart, dignity and grace
The disease took his voice, but never his face
His eyes I will remember when he was trying to speak
Using no words, was a difficult feat.
Dad, what I told you, will always ring true
You were the best dad, I am grateful for you
May you rest in peace, I still wish you were here
But I know you are watching, I know that you're near.
I love you.
Dropped shiny new coins on each long hike
Never missed a recital, a speech or a play
Taught me what was important at the end of a day.
Childhood flew, it was easy I thought
But now as a parent, I know it was not
And when I became that rebellious teen
I told him I hated him, I was only 15.
He sat a boy down, said, "It's time that you go"
"You're not to see her, if you do, I will know"
That led down a path of secrets and lies
I'm sure that he saw it, lying deep in my eyes.
Our dinners alone at the end of a week
Where I hated university and barely could sleep
Would make me feel special, would always be treasured
It was simply just dinner, amazing conversations would vary.
B.C. changed my life, even for a short time
When it didn't work out, he was the first in line
Buying the ticket that would return me back safely
No questions asked, a father protecting his baby.
I was slowly maturing, he knew it too
He got me that first big job with money that grew
The job led me out of the house and into my own
I was my own person, now fully grown.
Walked me down the aisle that sunny day in June
Our song was My Girl, the band played in the room
When I finally had my own sweet daughter, then son
His eyes teared up with immense pride, joy and love.
He gave me the best advice of my life
When the marriage fell apart and I was no longer a wife
His notes, cards and letters I still have to this day
When so many of my dreams were taken away.
A few years went by, and no one could have guessed
He would hear the word, "cancer", with one little test
He fought a bigger battle, braver than anyone I know
Never complaining, trying to remain in control.
And another day in June, this time for death
Would stop all his pain and bring eternal rest
We spoke at his funeral, and on his behalf
Evoking tears, but also the laughs.
Of a man that died with heart, dignity and grace
The disease took his voice, but never his face
His eyes I will remember when he was trying to speak
Using no words, was a difficult feat.
Dad, what I told you, will always ring true
You were the best dad, I am grateful for you
May you rest in peace, I still wish you were here
But I know you are watching, I know that you're near.
I love you.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Observations In Bed
I have been writhing in pain, in bed, for pretty much the whole of my Sunday. The pain didn't start out this intense but it's now in a debilitating state so what is there else to do but let it happen, hope it ends soon and not think about all the other things I could be doing. When more serious thoughts popped into my mind, I just decided to get off the internet of my small BlackBerry, and get up (gasp) and blog on my laptop..ginger tea beside me.
It has been interesting to see that yet again, there is only one person that checks in on Sundays. I have been ignored today, for sure, by some people, and other friends, well, let's just say you know when they're with their man, waiting for their man, or can't talk on a weekend because of their man. And lately, plans get cancelled all the time, or worse, plans don't even get made, this is aside from phone silent Sundays. I've resigned myself to stop being that great girlfriend trying to make the fun plans and get some of my friends out. If they can't see that they rarely make the effort, I have no wish to make it for them. Time will tell how serious these friendships remain.
So back to my Sunday... The Ex picked up the children this morning. I was welcoming 9am like I do most Sunday mornings, when the Saturday just before was not a stellar one. I also welcomed the fact and patted myself on the back that we all got pretty good sleeps and that the kids went to bed at exactly 8pm, even on a Saturday night. We were all tired. And though their weariness was from a lot of exercise, mine was more induced from the day of tough parenting and going against my better wishes and drinking a little too much from the wine bottle. I think boredom, exhaustion and lonliness will provoke that. And maybe the wine has something to do with the immense pain in my chest. Weird spot, has been happening a lot lately actually. When you try and self-diagnose on the internet you have to take it all with a grain, or tablespoon, of salt. My stomach issues are not new nor uncommon. Sometimes it's a mind over matter, find some inner peace solution, and other times it's digestive, digestive, um, digestive, and oh yeah, stress and anxiety. So the usual lower abdomen strife has decided to switch it up and wreak havoc in the middle part of my upper chest, right under my breasts. This might be under the sternum, alas, I forget the actual name of this part of my body radiating so much pain. What does the internet say? Aaah, so much. And too much to post here. But let's just clarify that I don't start looking for and reading over other "viewers" questions and comments, those ready to spill everything about every little symptom or annoyance since, oh, age 5, who then beg viewers for answers as to what their pain is.
Oh-hold on while I try to breathe...... Dear God, that one lasted a while. Jokes aside, I even looked up heart attack symptoms. Check that off the list. I won't need an ambulance.
So here are my other observations in bed, or rather, when I was just in bed. Children. Those of us that are parents, those of us that are not. And we will never understand the other points of view, or at least, not entirely. I watched my neighbour yell at all the kids in front of our houses yesterday after he was so good listening to me and my woes about parenting. There was a street party on, or so it appeared, though it was really a 12 year old's birthday party that had taken to playing games in the sun soaked street in our 'hood. My neighbour yelled at everyone to stop playing ball, go to the school, and oh ya, Can't you see the sign that actually says No Ball Playing Permitted? He was livid, angry and um, really mean. Worried about the tulips he just planted. He must have repeated himself three times. Did I mention he is not a parent? Where are the lines? Are people allowed to be that mean to kids? What about all the discipline comments I read or hear about lately?
I am a parent, and of course I notice things that bother me too; parents that have no discipline techniques at all with their children. But I have the parent side in me, that a non-parent doesn't, or is it just empathy when you can see a parent struggling and tell yourself to stop judging or making hasty opinions? Even if they're not struggling, I have had to remind myself, even with friends, that our parenting styles are sometimes very different. I know that when I am struggling, or it is a challenging parenting day, it is hard to see if or when my family is trying to help or if they are saying they ARE helping, when it is rolled in with so many other factors to the situation at hand. It's also hard for me to see that they even try to understand me. I don't feel my mom understands a lot these days, and well, my sister and I arent' talking now because I cancelled our latter-day plans that involved me and my kids yesterday. And yes, I feel judged, far too often. Her take is I'm judging myelf, it isn't her judging me. I think she's exactly right but it still means we aren't talking and I can still be upset from other's exasperation and/or eye rolls. It puts me more on edge, and I admit I can't help that feeling. I have been begging my Ex to get involved, he's the one that really needs to, and have been asking him for months. He's only been on board with any tough parenting for just over a month. I'm so tired, so very tired of doing it all myself that I even I fall off the standing my ground stance with the kids lately. I know it's my job, I know parenting is work, but it's hard when it feels like you vs. your kids. Again, you don't know how hard it is if you're not a parent. Yes, that's what I think. So now I will go back to retreat mode, react to being ignored, simply because I don't want arguments or the explanations from me or them. And happily, I have booked me and the Ex into a 2-night parenting workshop. That really beats arguments and explanations.
So back to my Sunday... The Ex picked up the children this morning. I was welcoming 9am like I do most Sunday mornings, when the Saturday just before was not a stellar one. I also welcomed the fact and patted myself on the back that we all got pretty good sleeps and that the kids went to bed at exactly 8pm, even on a Saturday night. We were all tired. And though their weariness was from a lot of exercise, mine was more induced from the day of tough parenting and going against my better wishes and drinking a little too much from the wine bottle. I think boredom, exhaustion and lonliness will provoke that. And maybe the wine has something to do with the immense pain in my chest. Weird spot, has been happening a lot lately actually. When you try and self-diagnose on the internet you have to take it all with a grain, or tablespoon, of salt. My stomach issues are not new nor uncommon. Sometimes it's a mind over matter, find some inner peace solution, and other times it's digestive, digestive, um, digestive, and oh yeah, stress and anxiety. So the usual lower abdomen strife has decided to switch it up and wreak havoc in the middle part of my upper chest, right under my breasts. This might be under the sternum, alas, I forget the actual name of this part of my body radiating so much pain. What does the internet say? Aaah, so much. And too much to post here. But let's just clarify that I don't start looking for and reading over other "viewers" questions and comments, those ready to spill everything about every little symptom or annoyance since, oh, age 5, who then beg viewers for answers as to what their pain is.
Oh-hold on while I try to breathe...... Dear God, that one lasted a while. Jokes aside, I even looked up heart attack symptoms. Check that off the list. I won't need an ambulance.
So here are my other observations in bed, or rather, when I was just in bed. Children. Those of us that are parents, those of us that are not. And we will never understand the other points of view, or at least, not entirely. I watched my neighbour yell at all the kids in front of our houses yesterday after he was so good listening to me and my woes about parenting. There was a street party on, or so it appeared, though it was really a 12 year old's birthday party that had taken to playing games in the sun soaked street in our 'hood. My neighbour yelled at everyone to stop playing ball, go to the school, and oh ya, Can't you see the sign that actually says No Ball Playing Permitted? He was livid, angry and um, really mean. Worried about the tulips he just planted. He must have repeated himself three times. Did I mention he is not a parent? Where are the lines? Are people allowed to be that mean to kids? What about all the discipline comments I read or hear about lately?
I am a parent, and of course I notice things that bother me too; parents that have no discipline techniques at all with their children. But I have the parent side in me, that a non-parent doesn't, or is it just empathy when you can see a parent struggling and tell yourself to stop judging or making hasty opinions? Even if they're not struggling, I have had to remind myself, even with friends, that our parenting styles are sometimes very different. I know that when I am struggling, or it is a challenging parenting day, it is hard to see if or when my family is trying to help or if they are saying they ARE helping, when it is rolled in with so many other factors to the situation at hand. It's also hard for me to see that they even try to understand me. I don't feel my mom understands a lot these days, and well, my sister and I arent' talking now because I cancelled our latter-day plans that involved me and my kids yesterday. And yes, I feel judged, far too often. Her take is I'm judging myelf, it isn't her judging me. I think she's exactly right but it still means we aren't talking and I can still be upset from other's exasperation and/or eye rolls. It puts me more on edge, and I admit I can't help that feeling. I have been begging my Ex to get involved, he's the one that really needs to, and have been asking him for months. He's only been on board with any tough parenting for just over a month. I'm so tired, so very tired of doing it all myself that I even I fall off the standing my ground stance with the kids lately. I know it's my job, I know parenting is work, but it's hard when it feels like you vs. your kids. Again, you don't know how hard it is if you're not a parent. Yes, that's what I think. So now I will go back to retreat mode, react to being ignored, simply because I don't want arguments or the explanations from me or them. And happily, I have booked me and the Ex into a 2-night parenting workshop. That really beats arguments and explanations.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
The Way It Is - William Stafford
There's a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn't change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can't get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time's unfolding.
You don't ever let go of the thread.
things that change. But it doesn't change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can't get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time's unfolding.
You don't ever let go of the thread.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Just Another Manic Monday
I started writing 'this' blog on Monday morning. The Monday after Easter Sunday. Then I started again on Wednesday. It started out funny actually, when I usually don't write that funny (well, nowhere near my usual thoughts or dialogues or texts with friends...you all know this). But here I am late Saturday night trying to finish (that's what she said..Yes! I got funny again) and we all know, well, those of us that write, how much harder it can be if you leave thoughts unfinished, or a blog like I have, undone. I will share what I started with.....
My fat fucking cat woke me up at 7:30am this morning. Yes, I said 'fucking', yes I was angry. That wonderful fat thing knows the rules. Mama comes into her bedroom for bed, wonderful fat cat leaves his post under the bed should he still be there. There is no sleeping in Mama's room overnight. You're a cat, and master, yes, but Mama still has rules. And damn, the cat has time! Mama undresses, takes off mascara and washes her face. Come on, Harley! Is it that hard to get out from under the bed? (Maybe I should really evaulate that question... Harley ain't gettin' any younger or smaller.) Well, after sighing, not getting back to sleep, checking my phone that didn't even beep or ding this morning (I truly have no friends) I thought, Well, shit, I DID get almost 9 hours of amazing sleep, I AM child-free today, and well, at least the fat cat didn't sit on me...
Jokes aside, what a weekend. Kinda nice at parts, (church, sister hang-outs, seeing my mom) kinda shit otherwise (A 5 year old with control-issues, a 29 year old with control issues, or as he can be called, the Boyfriend that wasn't a Boyfriend.) I have been making strides with The Diet that started on April 1st. (No, the irony of starting a diet on Fool's Day was not lost on me.) I have lost 5 pounds, or at least I did within the first 6 days. Good Friday proved to be Drunk Friday, in a not good way.
Oh Little Lisa, my inner thoughts say...between men and wine when will you learn??
I swear I'm trying.
I used my sister's advice to my benefit these past few weeks. She told me to allow myself to wallow, suffer, be mad, sad etc, for the rest of the month of March. Start over in April. And start over I have. But then how do blips, dips or greyness just wham bam thank you ma'am into my new-ish golden state?
Well yes, it can be the excess wine. Feels great going down, not so good later that night, or the next morning. But I think I'm still evolving. I have been mindful of my diet this month, know how great it is to feel great, have ramped up my workouts, reading everything I can, and oh yeah, realizing I deserve the world, goddammit!
Did I mention I may go back to school?
AND THERE I STOPPED.
And I can't even remember why. I can't remember the actual reason I stopped writing. Especially when I had a lot of thoughts, or seemingly so. Mondays my thoughts are vivid, but also random, just like my Sunday night dreams. I remember the memories of those dreams interrupting my writing. Remembered all the shit of Saturday then Sunday and I remembered in silence I guess. And just stopped typing.
Monday afternoon I had a "usual" lunch date with R. In "usual" I mean, we normally see each other on a Monday, and normally frequent the same spot. It is normally over six hours and I normally don't get much else done on a Monday that I see him. At least I squeezed in a morning run.
I needed him to play friend, man obsessed with me and complimenting galore (ha ha, check!) and as of late, and again, therapist.
So we discussed the Boyfriend that wasn't a Boyfriend, men in general, making money (no, not as in men + money = being an escort, but yes, I realize I'd be a great one when I sit at One in Yorkville) me possibly going back to university, and a slew of other things including why I'm not organized with so many parts of my life. Maybe adding unorganized blogging is suitable.....SIGH.
So, "at the end of the day", of all Mondays...
Did I find all my answers? No.
Can I find any way to finish this blog? No.
Is it almost Monday again? Yes.
Let's talk then.
My fat fucking cat woke me up at 7:30am this morning. Yes, I said 'fucking', yes I was angry. That wonderful fat thing knows the rules. Mama comes into her bedroom for bed, wonderful fat cat leaves his post under the bed should he still be there. There is no sleeping in Mama's room overnight. You're a cat, and master, yes, but Mama still has rules. And damn, the cat has time! Mama undresses, takes off mascara and washes her face. Come on, Harley! Is it that hard to get out from under the bed? (Maybe I should really evaulate that question... Harley ain't gettin' any younger or smaller.) Well, after sighing, not getting back to sleep, checking my phone that didn't even beep or ding this morning (I truly have no friends) I thought, Well, shit, I DID get almost 9 hours of amazing sleep, I AM child-free today, and well, at least the fat cat didn't sit on me...
Jokes aside, what a weekend. Kinda nice at parts, (church, sister hang-outs, seeing my mom) kinda shit otherwise (A 5 year old with control-issues, a 29 year old with control issues, or as he can be called, the Boyfriend that wasn't a Boyfriend.) I have been making strides with The Diet that started on April 1st. (No, the irony of starting a diet on Fool's Day was not lost on me.) I have lost 5 pounds, or at least I did within the first 6 days. Good Friday proved to be Drunk Friday, in a not good way.
Oh Little Lisa, my inner thoughts say...between men and wine when will you learn??
I swear I'm trying.
I used my sister's advice to my benefit these past few weeks. She told me to allow myself to wallow, suffer, be mad, sad etc, for the rest of the month of March. Start over in April. And start over I have. But then how do blips, dips or greyness just wham bam thank you ma'am into my new-ish golden state?
Well yes, it can be the excess wine. Feels great going down, not so good later that night, or the next morning. But I think I'm still evolving. I have been mindful of my diet this month, know how great it is to feel great, have ramped up my workouts, reading everything I can, and oh yeah, realizing I deserve the world, goddammit!
Did I mention I may go back to school?
AND THERE I STOPPED.
And I can't even remember why. I can't remember the actual reason I stopped writing. Especially when I had a lot of thoughts, or seemingly so. Mondays my thoughts are vivid, but also random, just like my Sunday night dreams. I remember the memories of those dreams interrupting my writing. Remembered all the shit of Saturday then Sunday and I remembered in silence I guess. And just stopped typing.
Monday afternoon I had a "usual" lunch date with R. In "usual" I mean, we normally see each other on a Monday, and normally frequent the same spot. It is normally over six hours and I normally don't get much else done on a Monday that I see him. At least I squeezed in a morning run.
I needed him to play friend, man obsessed with me and complimenting galore (ha ha, check!) and as of late, and again, therapist.
So we discussed the Boyfriend that wasn't a Boyfriend, men in general, making money (no, not as in men + money = being an escort, but yes, I realize I'd be a great one when I sit at One in Yorkville) me possibly going back to university, and a slew of other things including why I'm not organized with so many parts of my life. Maybe adding unorganized blogging is suitable.....SIGH.
So, "at the end of the day", of all Mondays...
Did I find all my answers? No.
Can I find any way to finish this blog? No.
Is it almost Monday again? Yes.
Let's talk then.
No Need To Argue-The Cranberries
There’s no need to argue anymore
I gave all I could but you left me so sore
And the thing that makes me mad
Is the one thing that I had
I knew, I knew, I’d lose you
You’ll always be special to me, special to me, to me.
And I remember all the things we once shared
Watching TV movies on the living room armchair
But they say it’ll work out fine
Was it all a waste of time?
'Cuz I knew, I knew, I’d lose you
You’ll always be special to me, special to me, to me.
Will I forget in time?
You said I was on your mind
There’s no need to argue
No need to argue anymore
There’s no need to argue anymore.
I gave all I could but you left me so sore
And the thing that makes me mad
Is the one thing that I had
I knew, I knew, I’d lose you
You’ll always be special to me, special to me, to me.
And I remember all the things we once shared
Watching TV movies on the living room armchair
But they say it’ll work out fine
Was it all a waste of time?
'Cuz I knew, I knew, I’d lose you
You’ll always be special to me, special to me, to me.
Will I forget in time?
You said I was on your mind
There’s no need to argue
No need to argue anymore
There’s no need to argue anymore.
Monday, February 27, 2012
The icing on the cake
It's official I'm losing, or have lost, most of my mind. Maybe that is harsh, so what have I lost?
My birthday came and went this year. With my yearly anticipation to the date, and the over-excitement of what will come, what started with such promise ended in frustration and the knowing the person that had wanted to make it so damn great for me didn't fulfill his wishes or mine. The night ended in a shitty argument, a heated fight of many sorts, and this was actually after great dancing, simple but yummy food and much needed laughs with friends. Ah, where did it all go wrong...?
A very close friend of mine that birthday night was shocked to hear that I wasn't in love with my boyfriend. I was shocked SHE was so shocked. I stopped being that girl that fell so hard so quickly, um, about a million heartbreaks ago, or maybe just after my marriage unravelled. Maybe I hide that well. I think if you've never had your heart ripped out of your chest, you would surely still fall in love at the drop of a hat. Doesn't or hasn't happened yet. I don't think I really allow it to. Sure there was and is a boy here or there that captured my heart and attention during the last four years (not always easy for a boy to do), but love? I don't think so. (They don't call it 'falling' for someone or 'falling' in love, for nothin', either, boys and girls.) Her astonishment felt like judgment though I know it wasn't. I think she just felt to not be in love with the one you're with was a complete waste of time. I see it as protecting my own heart and giving time to see where things go. Love in 60 days? Not my style. I think I've grown up since those days. Cynical? Hard? Jaded? Sure. But I also think it can be better to not trip over the cupid arrows and just like what you have a hell of a lot. The fall-in-love-so-quickly peeps may scoff. It's okay. We all do what we gotta do.
It's been hard to determine what is anything these days. The guilt of even having a rough time when I feel I shouldn't eats me up. And no, this is not even close to being all boyfriend related, friends. When I feel everyone is doing more, has it tougher, has way more to juggle (that's a big steep hill on my personal guilt trip--bus stops every 5 minutes, folks) it is very hard to even reach out for help. I've dropped the hints, or the actual bang-on one liners. They get answered in text form, phone messaging, all the great stuff of our technology age. Do I wish I was happier or even just a bit content? Fuck yes. When I have "fun" it's fleeting. I can usually count on both hands the amount of times I laugh each week. Would letting go and falling in love help this? He would probably say yes, almost urges me to do so. But I don't think a great man can even do it all to ease the constant pain I feel daily.
Damn, maybe I'll just email this to my therapist and save $100 visit.......
My birthday came and went this year. With my yearly anticipation to the date, and the over-excitement of what will come, what started with such promise ended in frustration and the knowing the person that had wanted to make it so damn great for me didn't fulfill his wishes or mine. The night ended in a shitty argument, a heated fight of many sorts, and this was actually after great dancing, simple but yummy food and much needed laughs with friends. Ah, where did it all go wrong...?
A very close friend of mine that birthday night was shocked to hear that I wasn't in love with my boyfriend. I was shocked SHE was so shocked. I stopped being that girl that fell so hard so quickly, um, about a million heartbreaks ago, or maybe just after my marriage unravelled. Maybe I hide that well. I think if you've never had your heart ripped out of your chest, you would surely still fall in love at the drop of a hat. Doesn't or hasn't happened yet. I don't think I really allow it to. Sure there was and is a boy here or there that captured my heart and attention during the last four years (not always easy for a boy to do), but love? I don't think so. (They don't call it 'falling' for someone or 'falling' in love, for nothin', either, boys and girls.) Her astonishment felt like judgment though I know it wasn't. I think she just felt to not be in love with the one you're with was a complete waste of time. I see it as protecting my own heart and giving time to see where things go. Love in 60 days? Not my style. I think I've grown up since those days. Cynical? Hard? Jaded? Sure. But I also think it can be better to not trip over the cupid arrows and just like what you have a hell of a lot. The fall-in-love-so-quickly peeps may scoff. It's okay. We all do what we gotta do.
It's been hard to determine what is anything these days. The guilt of even having a rough time when I feel I shouldn't eats me up. And no, this is not even close to being all boyfriend related, friends. When I feel everyone is doing more, has it tougher, has way more to juggle (that's a big steep hill on my personal guilt trip--bus stops every 5 minutes, folks) it is very hard to even reach out for help. I've dropped the hints, or the actual bang-on one liners. They get answered in text form, phone messaging, all the great stuff of our technology age. Do I wish I was happier or even just a bit content? Fuck yes. When I have "fun" it's fleeting. I can usually count on both hands the amount of times I laugh each week. Would letting go and falling in love help this? He would probably say yes, almost urges me to do so. But I don't think a great man can even do it all to ease the constant pain I feel daily.
Damn, maybe I'll just email this to my therapist and save $100 visit.......
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Abstract
Today is Valentine's Day and I'm sitting alone at my kitchen table, utterly too thankful that the kids went to bed by 8pm. And I'm not even drinking wine!
My Valentine's celebrations were Sunday night. I would say it should have also included last night, Monday, as well, but it was definitely not the same as Sunday for many reasons. Sunday was full of surprises and champagne and sex (well, that just makes any day better) and a general, "we really like each other" feel and "we're both going to show it all night". I like those days with Damian. Last night, not so much. It felt there were time lines and two different dinners to make and the reminder that someone has an early start to their weekday. Bah humbug. Alas, I had Sunday. I also this morning alone at his place with a brand new coffee maker and a view of the city I never tire of. I don't think I should complain.
It's been a weird week. Amid the plans for the weekend's Valentine's celebrations, there have been many many plans for my mom of an entirely different nature. She will very soon be a "Beaches" or "Beach" resident. I say Beaches, but I'm sure I'd get my head bitten off by the Beaches people that say it's the Beach. Tomato Tomato. She's moving and moving very soon. March 1st soon. I will no longer ever really have the need to go to Ajax, except to see Shmore's family.
It is now also hitting me more that I will never be in that house ever again. And even though Dad dying in my old room haunts me, I won't even have that room to be haunted by in my life. It will be someone else's bedroom and I will never see it again. It's a bit overwhelming.
Overwhelming is also my mother. God love her, is the saying that comes to mind. I know my sister and I do love her, but boy oh boy it's been tough taking care of so much. You find parenting a parent as challenging as parenting a child. Hate to say it like that, but it's kind of accurate. The worst part is, I'm not even doing all the parenting. God love my sister, I wll say next. Calls, plans, calls, confirmations, lawyers, real estate agents, bill companies and a new landlord. Not for her, for my mom. It's been a crazy journey and how my sister has held it together, I don't know. I think my dad has worked more than one miracle since his death. She, my mom, has survived, and so have we, the children. And we haven't just survived this winter, and not only every new month of the first year without him. We have just survived and we have continued on. I don't say "moved on" because you never quite do after you lose someone, do you? You can move on physically, but I don't think you ever move on mentally. Anguish and grief linger longer than bitterness or guilt. Bad emotions all around. But onwards and upwards I say (in a British accent, yes). Where else is there to go?
And so it was fitting that on the day my mom sees what will now be HER new apartment in the city, and the evening which she agreed to babysit for me, I went and got my fourth (and not final) tattoo, the one I would have scripted out for me but in my father's memory. I hope he saw it all from that beautiful place I see heaven to be. Saw how little I grimaced, saw how proud I was at the finished product. Saw Damian holding my hand the entire (near) 2 hours. It's done and healing well as I knew it would. It's brightened me and my last few days since I've had it. Made me a bit happier, like when you smile to yourself when you know a secret that no one else knows. That's what the new ink on my left ribcage is. A small secret that when I think of it, makes me feel better. Onwards and upwards. (And thank you, Bill).
My Valentine's celebrations were Sunday night. I would say it should have also included last night, Monday, as well, but it was definitely not the same as Sunday for many reasons. Sunday was full of surprises and champagne and sex (well, that just makes any day better) and a general, "we really like each other" feel and "we're both going to show it all night". I like those days with Damian. Last night, not so much. It felt there were time lines and two different dinners to make and the reminder that someone has an early start to their weekday. Bah humbug. Alas, I had Sunday. I also this morning alone at his place with a brand new coffee maker and a view of the city I never tire of. I don't think I should complain.
It's been a weird week. Amid the plans for the weekend's Valentine's celebrations, there have been many many plans for my mom of an entirely different nature. She will very soon be a "Beaches" or "Beach" resident. I say Beaches, but I'm sure I'd get my head bitten off by the Beaches people that say it's the Beach. Tomato Tomato. She's moving and moving very soon. March 1st soon. I will no longer ever really have the need to go to Ajax, except to see Shmore's family.
It is now also hitting me more that I will never be in that house ever again. And even though Dad dying in my old room haunts me, I won't even have that room to be haunted by in my life. It will be someone else's bedroom and I will never see it again. It's a bit overwhelming.
Overwhelming is also my mother. God love her, is the saying that comes to mind. I know my sister and I do love her, but boy oh boy it's been tough taking care of so much. You find parenting a parent as challenging as parenting a child. Hate to say it like that, but it's kind of accurate. The worst part is, I'm not even doing all the parenting. God love my sister, I wll say next. Calls, plans, calls, confirmations, lawyers, real estate agents, bill companies and a new landlord. Not for her, for my mom. It's been a crazy journey and how my sister has held it together, I don't know. I think my dad has worked more than one miracle since his death. She, my mom, has survived, and so have we, the children. And we haven't just survived this winter, and not only every new month of the first year without him. We have just survived and we have continued on. I don't say "moved on" because you never quite do after you lose someone, do you? You can move on physically, but I don't think you ever move on mentally. Anguish and grief linger longer than bitterness or guilt. Bad emotions all around. But onwards and upwards I say (in a British accent, yes). Where else is there to go?
And so it was fitting that on the day my mom sees what will now be HER new apartment in the city, and the evening which she agreed to babysit for me, I went and got my fourth (and not final) tattoo, the one I would have scripted out for me but in my father's memory. I hope he saw it all from that beautiful place I see heaven to be. Saw how little I grimaced, saw how proud I was at the finished product. Saw Damian holding my hand the entire (near) 2 hours. It's done and healing well as I knew it would. It's brightened me and my last few days since I've had it. Made me a bit happier, like when you smile to yourself when you know a secret that no one else knows. That's what the new ink on my left ribcage is. A small secret that when I think of it, makes me feel better. Onwards and upwards. (And thank you, Bill).
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Forgetful but not forgotten
I think I have to re-read my past blogs. I think I have to breathe more. I think I need to remind myself to make my own life happen instead of helping make other's lives flourish. I think I need to remind myself that my children are young, and still children that don't always know better. I think I need to remind myself that even if I continue to raise them alone, for a long, long time, they will appreciate me, I will appreciate me, and we will go on, happily.
Monday, January 2, 2012
"Saint Anthony, Saint Anthony....."
I have Saint Anthony to thank for a few things.
It started last week. A regular morning. Opening the top drawer of my dresser to rummage through the hundred pairs of underwear I own. I won't get into details of types and colours and how I simply adore undergarments, that doesn't have to do much with this story, if you will.
But as I sorted through the undies, there to my utter surprise, was the back of my 'missing' journal/notebook/blackbook peeking through the thongs. I knew it was the notebook. The unmistakeable green back. I knew I would turn it over and reveal it's front, the Anne Taintor picuture of the woman with the funny female quote. But what I didn't know is how the book got there.
My book had been missing since August 2011 when I was rearended on the long weekend, when I still had barely a memory after my father's death. I didn't know where I had put that book. And dammit, I had looked, had obsessed, had told friends about "the missing journal", had even called up that rental car place to see (after stupidly bringing my beloved journal out of the house on one stupid occasion) if my book had fallen into those black leather seats. All to no avail. No book.
But I swear I had looked in that same underwear drawer, swear I had, at least once since August when I had seen or used it last. So why did Saint Anthony put it there now?
Whatever the reason, one I will never know, the timing and the fact that my 'lost' book turned up out of nowhere, out of thin air, made for a happy day and made for happier final days of 2011. And not because I wanted to relive old memories or look up old phone numbers, but simply because there are parts of the past me that I want to just simply remember. With the reappearance of the book, it was a reminder that it is time for new memories, rekindling of some former friendships, and some more alone time as well to just find that happier version of myself that was with me just a few years ago. Time for work, school, writing and parenting, and thinking, no, knowing, it will work out this year, all of it. Saint Anthony was proving something to me, and I was reminded of that today, the second day of the new year that was for me a bit less happy than the last few weeks. Blame it on the anti-climactic or not-as-happy-new year's eve that I just experienced ( I really swear this time I'm not going "out" on another NYE or even trying to make plans for anyone but myself for that silly year end night), blame it on the death of a friend's father, or painfully remembering yesterday and today the death of my own father, but I won't let the next few days of 2012 be unhappy, sad or full of trying to make everyone else feel better about themselves. That's not what this year for me is about.
Thank you, Saint Anthony. You returned to me more than my journal.
It started last week. A regular morning. Opening the top drawer of my dresser to rummage through the hundred pairs of underwear I own. I won't get into details of types and colours and how I simply adore undergarments, that doesn't have to do much with this story, if you will.
But as I sorted through the undies, there to my utter surprise, was the back of my 'missing' journal/notebook/blackbook peeking through the thongs. I knew it was the notebook. The unmistakeable green back. I knew I would turn it over and reveal it's front, the Anne Taintor picuture of the woman with the funny female quote. But what I didn't know is how the book got there.
My book had been missing since August 2011 when I was rearended on the long weekend, when I still had barely a memory after my father's death. I didn't know where I had put that book. And dammit, I had looked, had obsessed, had told friends about "the missing journal", had even called up that rental car place to see (after stupidly bringing my beloved journal out of the house on one stupid occasion) if my book had fallen into those black leather seats. All to no avail. No book.
But I swear I had looked in that same underwear drawer, swear I had, at least once since August when I had seen or used it last. So why did Saint Anthony put it there now?
Whatever the reason, one I will never know, the timing and the fact that my 'lost' book turned up out of nowhere, out of thin air, made for a happy day and made for happier final days of 2011. And not because I wanted to relive old memories or look up old phone numbers, but simply because there are parts of the past me that I want to just simply remember. With the reappearance of the book, it was a reminder that it is time for new memories, rekindling of some former friendships, and some more alone time as well to just find that happier version of myself that was with me just a few years ago. Time for work, school, writing and parenting, and thinking, no, knowing, it will work out this year, all of it. Saint Anthony was proving something to me, and I was reminded of that today, the second day of the new year that was for me a bit less happy than the last few weeks. Blame it on the anti-climactic or not-as-happy-new year's eve that I just experienced ( I really swear this time I'm not going "out" on another NYE or even trying to make plans for anyone but myself for that silly year end night), blame it on the death of a friend's father, or painfully remembering yesterday and today the death of my own father, but I won't let the next few days of 2012 be unhappy, sad or full of trying to make everyone else feel better about themselves. That's not what this year for me is about.
Thank you, Saint Anthony. You returned to me more than my journal.
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