i dunno, but she used it like a threat to you.....i wanted to say "and???" don't do the witch thing here, sometimes the b version.... y'all, am not in happy spirits today....excited about my trip to the beach, but other than that......(yes, the beach, am going to norfolk, staying at a place on the beach, watch a hurricane move in or something--oh, not a vacation, work is sending me)

have a great trip wolf, sounds like a break will do you good. Don't know what's going on (previous posts) but I hope it resolves soon, as it doesn't sound the least bit fun. My vent: some people shouldn't be allowed to have children one of my students came in a told me no one came home last night... no mom, no boyfriend, no adult. He made himself dinner and put himself to bed. When the cops began "pounding" on the door late at night, he didn't get it. In the morning he got himself up and dressed and on the school bus. And know I find out (when social services shows up) that his mom was arrested and he is in a Family Crisis center until who-knows-when. This women has severely f***ed up her life and now she is working hard to screw up the lives of her children. I stomp my feet and say, "I will not let this happen. He will not slip througfh the cracks." But what in the hell can I do. I've called the social worker assigned to the case three times and spoke wiim once. He was supposed to call me "right back" and let me know if I could see him (my student) this weekend at the Crisis Center but... as usual with DDSS, I haven't heard anything yet. Adults can really fuck up a child's life and that pisses me off to no end.

hear! hear! (hope things work out for this little man)

I wish you and him the best, Stacey...

I'm glad you have the consciousness to pursue this. That kid deserves much better. When does his mom get out of the slammer?

That kind of stuff is so heart-breaking...I'm getting misty just thinking about it, please keep us posted.

Mom is out of the slammer and unfortunately has regained custody of the 3 kids. I've been on DDSS's arse to get involved and at least look into the other red flags that have been popping up consistently. Meanwhile, he and I spend a lot of time talking about this and that, sometimes home life, sometimes not. He seems to be working out his anger and frustration pretty well (effeand in very positive ways. Today my vent: For an entire week it has been 50s for highs. I planted my garden on Saturday. Since 7am we have received 6 inches of snow with 10 more expected overnight. ARRRGHHHHH!

Can't help laughing, stacey! I wouldn't dreaming of planting before May 1, can't believe you would even consider it there! I've seen snow on the ground in CO in May before!

*eyes downcast* i was just thinking positively... *sob*

Totally different topic(?): Am I a big enough clinically depressed, raving antisocial asshole rat bastard that I should seek counseling? All opinions appreciated. Thanks.

lol... what precipitated this?

A close friend of mine has started telling me that about once a week...I was looking for additional verification, I guess...

hmmmm... is this the same one you mentioned before? (when i was telling you (or elke, or somebody) about the broad who was telling me that i needed to sort out my "issues" with women, you said some- one was telling you the same thing)...

maybe...can't remember...don't want to read all of what are you listening to right now to find out, either...does it matter?

lol you're right... that's where it was... (didn't remember that)... point is, that's a long time to endure (i mean, when whats-her-name was giving that line to me, was on the order of "parting shots"... couldn't possibly endure it once a week... especially when they're right... god, they're really insufferable when they're right)... anyway, i tried the "help" thing once... just made things worse...

Do you think you're screwed up enough to require counseling? Are all your relationships unsuccessful? I think the way our loved ones regard us is a good measure of our mental health.

i dunno WER (still confused over yours and nick's regular 'mystery girl' 'he said/ she said' banter) Brandon and I are going to counseling (soon) conflict resolution. I don't think it means we're both screwed up (or at least that's besides the point) but i hope we will benefit from some mediation. without all the gory details... he had a f***ed up childhood (who didn't) i lived in Pollyannaville (or so I thought) both of us have manic depressives for dads (gotta love 'em!) and we deal with issues differently sometimes. We've made a commitment and now we're going to ask for a little help in keeping it. About one on one counseling. I've been before. Once when my dad flipped. Once when my brother flipped (family counseling) and once because i thought i needed it. the last time sucked because i get finished talking to this dr. guy and he tells me I am the 'most well adjusted young woman I have met in a long time.' sheesh! (to quote nick!) that's not what you want to hear when you think you need help... it just makes you think you're more screwed up ---- (seeking help when there's nothing wrong... what a freak!) anyway WER, it's no one's decision but your own. Even if there are others involved. They can't make you go and if you don't want to go, it cannot be successful. (whew! end of speech)

but a good speech... and i hope y'all find what you need with the counselling thing... wer, if you do wind up trying analysis or whatever- just be very careful concerning analyst... lots of snakes/half-wits/ charlatans out there... (not all of them named newt or rush... must be very discerning)... (oh, and mystery girl is everywhere, you know... but we weren't talking about her)...

did ya come to any conclusions? did you figure out the question?

no and no I figure at some point something will break and I'll just deal with it then...

(that's the way i deal with my car) for what it's worth, take care of your mind, it's the only thing that is truly yours.

wer, stacey's right, take care of yourself and you will be much happier/healthier because of it. am not ashamed to admit it, but i had counseling too, they basically said the same thing that stacey got, so i got a different doctor who would listen. not to hear what i wanted to hear, already know that i'm crazy :)

maybe I don't want my mind anymore, it just doesn't work right, and I can't seem to adjust for that anymore...

i agree, bubba... **** mind, **** thought... dunno, yeats (as always) says it better than i can... "intellect no longer knows IS from OUGHT, or KNOWER from KNOWN"... fascination with those issues waning... detest so often what is, no faith in what ought to be (and less certain of each)... he also said something about "the unfinished man and his pain/ brought face to face with his own clumsiness"... prescient words, and purely a function of mind... no use, desire for it...

Where you been hiding lately, Nick?

ok, i gotta vent. someone in my house has two strikes against them. 1. they asked me if i remembered this really good looking chick with three kids who looked like she never had any..... 2. the hostess at a restaurant was maybe 15, and they said, honey, can you get like that again? OH, and one other thing that has nothing to do with all that.....i hate it when people are too damned lazy to take the shopping cart to the "please return carts here" deal right next to their parking space. why do they leave them to bump into other people's cars? One more thing, hate being in the dark about stuff that directly concerns me and my future in my work. namely, am fixing to go somewhere else for a couple of months (do note that plural) and am supposed to leave in two weeks and no one knows if it's a go or no go and here i am busting butt to get ready. (i know, it's part of my line of work, but hate it anyway)

been around... poetry conference, mostly, i guess (though that keeps me occupied a good 3 minutes a day)... rather introspective, these days, i suppose...

miss your voice........

Wolf, sorry to hear things are so f***ed up at your end. Sounds like you're powerless in so many areas (even the supermarket)...keep us posted as to what's going on....

*hugs* Wolf!

Have any of you ever been to Switzerland - yeah, that snow-capped place with the nice chocolate, cheese, watches and beautiful people who sound like they're throwing up every time they open their mouths. Now, picture this: I'm in the park with my kids, girls aged two and three. I'm a 24 year-old girl, I love talking about the Teletubbies and why Daddy's got a ding-dong and Mummy's got none, but I also find a perverse stimulation in adult company. So, here I am in the park. I'm like seeking company. No-one wants to talk, even though I speak Swiss German, no they sit there like a bunch of statues, staring into oblivion. Okay, I can handle that. Then I see this baby of about ten months or less crawl away from the sandpit. His Mum isn't looking, 'cos nobody gets up. He crawls away further. He crawls into a bush a good 25m or so away. I get up, I run to him, and drag him out. I carry the kid back to the sandpit. As soon as I reach it, a woman just about attacks me for trying to kidnap her kid. And I say, 'F... off, I wouldn't take the little bastard if you payed me!' I'm just so sick of this paranoid, stupid, pain-in-the-butt nation!!!!

*roflmao*

You display a common male problem. Grunting, instead of SAYING what it is that pisses you off. Women are so much more straight-forward.

Or were you having an orgasm?

what in the HELL are you talking about?

I'll tell you what I'm talking about if you tell me what "roflmau" or whatever, is. If you're going to use words like that on this conference, I shall interpret it freely. HA-HA!

Nick OH'Honey!, I herebly officially apologize for my terrible conduct. I misinterpreted your roflmau as a grunt, and certainly did not intend any harm whatsoever with my vulgar remarks. *GULP!* Good God, I had almost forgotten how awful soap tastes!

*rofgmao*

(just kidding)

Riette, sorry you're so unhappy in Switzerland; while vacationing, I, too, found everyone over 19 rather guarded and impersonal. (kind of ironic that your biggest language barrier is the internet acronyms!)

Hi, Autumn, No, it would not have bothered me if I had only been vacationing here - I LIVE here!!!!! That is why I needed the VENT. Normally I think of myself as a fairly tolerant and humorous person, but here, if you start talking to a women, she thinks: another woman + conversation = MAD as a hare! The men think: woman + 'could you help me with this please' = pick-up line. Know what I mean? The other week I was on my way into town, and three guys from the Swiss equivalent of 'Teen Titties Magazine' wanted me to pose for them, because I asked one to hold the tram door open for me. They even promised me an internet page, the dick heads! Anyway, their enthusiam rapidly dissolved when I explained to them that, while I may look vaguely young or tolerable with clothes on, I have two children, both of whom I nursed for six months . . . Then they started going on about young, foreign women from th rd world countries (I am from Africa - Namibia) luring Swiss men into their beds in order to get pregnant and married. So I did the old thing: Told them to fuck off; my husband is English, and I don't need to LURE anyone - they 'come' of their own accord! HA-HA! I no nobody will believe what I've just told you - perhaps someone who has spent more than a week here will. These things happen to me ALL the time. I keep thinking, perhaps it isn't them, perhaps I am simply a moron-magnet!

Oh, and I forgot to tell THIS one. A month after I got married, they tried to throw me out of the country, giving the reason that I was never 'officially brought into the country'. CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS? So I got myself a lawyer. She rang the 'Fremdenpolizei' up, and it came out that they thought I was black - all information they had on me, was a name that looked suspicious to them, and they knew I was from Africa. So my lawyer explained that I was of English decent and white; two days later I got permission to stay. I'm thinking, what If I WERE black? Not only black people, but ANY slightly tanned person who happens to have darkish hair stand in one qeue at visa consulates - the fairer looking individuals get to go in straight away. That makes me wonder . . .

Interesting Riette. My opinions of Switzerland have been based soley on beautiful pictures and neutral policies... I never would've imagined the goings on you speak of. My vents today pale in comparison... I'm just tired of being sick. Too sick to spend more than 4 hours at a time conscious but well enough to want to get the hell out of the house. Trouble is after my spending all day at home, Mr. B thinks the house/laundry/garden (other asundry chores) should have been taken care of. If he'd be so brazen as to say this aloud, I could (in clear conscience) tell him to go play with himself, but the undertones are to vague to retaliate against. HarrumpH! (grunting like a man per Riette's remarks in a previous conference! *laugh*)

Stacey, why are you so sick? Is is flu kind of sick, or really sick kind of sick . . . or pregnancy kind of sick? . . . Whatever, I am really sorry to hear it; I hate being sick, and when I am I make life HELL for poor Mr. C. He is better than Mr. B in that respect, but he's not yet figured out that white wash doesn't go with coloured things, and so I have knickers in colours you WOULD NOT BELIEVE! I have a question - I want to check this theory I have about men. Is your Mr. B about the same age than you, older or younger? Wait, let me submit this first - my computer is going bonkers at the moment . . .

Okay, now my theory goes like this: I think men take a great deal longer than women to mature. I had a few boyfriends before I met my husband. They were all more or less the same age as me, and I ended up losing respect for all of them, 'cos they so soon after the initial courting phase revealed themselves as childish, selfish pricks - I didn't end up friends with any of them! Then I met Mr. C. ALOT older than me, and it simply worked from the start, though I was only 19. He respected me, he challenged me to use the stuff between my ears (I was really uneducated when I first came here), was GREAT in bed because of years of experience, and after four years of marriage and two kiddies later, it just seems to be getting better. Do you think it has something to do with the fact that he had all those years extra to become mature enough for a young woman, or does it simply depend n the man?

Age & maturity do not always go hand-in-hand...I have had my fair share of relationships with "Peter Pans" many years older, and very equitable ones with men around my same age (never dated anyone younger). What's important is to recognize the bliss in whomever you find it.

Those are sensible words if ever I have heard some. Old Peter Pans must be even more off-putting than the younger ones. I like a man who can tease me, and be serious with me, and talk to me, and argue with me, and make me laugh, and be a good lover, and be my friend - far too much to expect from many men, you think?

as many men as women, imho...

You again?! Excuse me, but this is female talk, sir - woman to woman - know what I mean!? But seeing as you're so eMANcipated as to call yourself Kitchen Manager, I shall forgive you. Just this once. Are women really like that too? Have you met many women that were too immature for you, and all that other stuff I talked about? I honestly thought only men were like that. But then again, I've never complained to a man about it . . .

I believe that part of the problem lies in each sex's definition of mature...(if'n I couldn't comment, you should be having this conversation in Men are from Mars, as I try very hard not to butt in there) in one way or another, all that I have dated have been immature, and have told me so as well, even if it has been about different aspects of ourselves

Thought you'd gone back to work, or whatever you SHOULD be doing instead of this verbal ball throwing. So you have not found the right person yet? It is sensible, though what you've said - yeah, I know it didn't sound like it! HA-HA! But, and this has just struck me right now, it must be a thing somewhat more positive than I thought before. I mean, to find a person exactly as mature, and understanding in the same way, and all the other things . . . What I'm trying to say is - being with a partner like that would be like being married to oneself, would it not. I SURE AS HELL don't want to be married to myself. Would you? Clever, pain in the butt! (Don't look so annoyed, I warned you about my compliments. . . .)

Yes, Riette, old Peter Pans are a drag, because they don't come right out and tell you they're Peter Pans. They suck you in with those greying temples and by the time you realize what's going on, an irretrievable period of your life is gone. Don't sound bitter, do I? I think all those great qualities you listed exist in a percentage of the population, but I'm not flattering myself that they all exist in me! How can I expect to find them in all the guys I meet? LOL! I believe in setting the bar high, but I think i should have to meet my own standard...

And I thought they were the least to hope for . . . So I'm in trouble here, right? It is a good thing the grey temples that sucked me in isn't a Peter Pan, or my foolishness would end up costing me dearly, huh? You don't think he might still reveal himself as that after six years, do you? I'm getting really worried here! I mean, I just married the guy because I found that broad forehead, and the intellect oozing from it, those great words spoken in deep voice and great abundance a total turn-on! And then there were the grey temples. I mean, God, who can possibly resist THAT?!

LOL!

Nah, you'd know by now--you couldn't live in denial for 6 years!

Oh, Jesus, Autumn, I'm capable of anything! Relativism backfiring?!?!

LOL!

LOL! You're talking yourself out of your own theory...

No, but I might be dragged out by force - and that depends on how the marriage will go, now that I secretly suspect my husband of being a Peter Pan in hibernation . . . Will let you know. So far he's still putting on the old face . . .

So, in which category could Mr. B and Mr. Autumn be filed into?

Mr. B would love to be a Peter Pan. I think he was in his earlier life (before Stace) but now feels this irrational pull toward responsibility and stability. He doesn't always like it so much but he tends to be more consistent than I.

ha-ha! Well, just see to it you bring him up right, and there won't be a problem in the world! Mr. C had a real tendency to offer to go shopping. Then he'd come back with half the things on the list. So once I made two shopping lists, and made him read out the things he bought via intercom. As always he forgot half the things, so I locked him out until he got everything! He never forgets anymore.

Mr. S. was born middle-aged. Responsibility and stability are the hallmarks of his creed; consistency is his middle name. This can be in turn reassuring and infuriating...

likewise Autumn... I both envy and pity you! *smile*

What can I say? I married my dad! Freud would definitely have a field day with that (and wouldn't wear trouser socks, either).

If Mr. C. should ever turn into my father, I'll shoot him dead with a catapult.

i have no doubts about your sincerity. i really need to vent. or maybe just a shoulder to squeeze. i'm scared and sad and probably more angry than i've been in a long time. last night when i came home from having dinner with a friend, I found my screen window yanked off and hanging by a nail and my bathroom window pushed completely opened. After the initial shock, freak, upstanding hair experience (who am i kidding, that last all night) I called my friend and asked her to come right over, I thought someone had broken into my house. You see, i am again (as usual) a traveling scientist's widow. Mr. B is in San Diego. Holly came over (with Mace and pepper spray) while I sat in my car pretty much on the very edge. After looking through the house (stupid, stupid, STUPID!) I still didn't feel safe (not in the least). I called the police, an officer came out. The nicest man I've ever met. He searched the house again and asked what had been taken. When I told him nothing he looked rather grim. He wandered the outside and come back with the not-so-happy-wish-I-could-wake-up-now news that four screens had been pried off before the (whoever) dragged one of MY lawnchairs to MY back bathroom window, yanked off MY (dammit MINE!!!) screen from the top so he could unlock it, and shoved the window up. His general feeling was that the 'perp' was intending to lie in wait. An assault situation, not a robbery. There have been two others in the vicinity in the past week. Sgt. Mueller explained the other attacks had been orchestrated in the same manner, women temporarily alone (husbands/roommates out of town), same type of entry (through the old type screens) but that someone (perhaps myself coming home, or the kittens fooling around) had caught him off gaurd and he had left. I spent the night on Holly's couch. I went back this morning. I was mad. I'm pissed off at the sorry bastard who has made me fearful of spending time in my own home. I am pissed off that I don't feel safe/comfortable anything but anxious when I think about going home. I'm scared. I love my independence, I enjoy having the house to myself occassionally and now I'm not really sure I want to go back there. I don't think I could fall asleep. I'm feeling rather odd in many senses relating to this.

Wow, what a violation. I feel so sorry for you, Stacey. I'm sure you're still evaluating your options, but I'm interested to hear how you're going to handle it once you've analyzed the situation. It's hard to face a faceless demon, isn't it? Your imagination must be working overtime...

my prayers for you, Stacey

Whatever you do, STAY with your friend until Mr. B is back - it will be easier for you to face the whole thing if he is there too, and you both can better decide what comes next. Do you have any kind of measure of self-defence? Like teargas - find out about that sort of thing from someone who knows. We ALL should - why should these bastards have it so easy?

Many strange feelings shoved through me, Stacey. I felt jolted and jangled again, just like when it happened to me 2 years ago: the window was open when I got back and a VCR was gone. It'll take you a little time for that panicky trauma to subside. Anger and fear. Wish my shoulder could be there for ya. I hope Holly is just the right person for you right now. I know you and Brandon'll come up with some pretty good ways to make it extremely difficult for a break-in. Those who can tell ya how to do it, they should know ways that aren't as commonly known---like the police and neighborhood watch groups and magazine articles. And your tough strong mind will stabilize into developing some pretty decent strategies or ways of looking at the whole thing from here on out. Independence will be yours....you'll be able to enjoy it again. And, y'know, you'll feel that much stronger and self-reliant and able. You'll get that feeling of confident determination coming to you. Myself, I didn't do anything different except start to lock the windows, but then I didn't have much that anyone would want, and I haven't been a woman alone now for years. How're ya feeling? Are ya doin' a little better at all? Too soon yet?

How are you feeling now, Stacey? Is Mr. B. back yet? I think I speak for all of us when I say I worry about you. I hope you are okay.

Lookit me!!! Home alone in my own house and feeling okay! (of course it's broad daylight and the only window I'm letting remain open is the one I'm sitting next too.) I took a shower without double locking the bathroom door (much to Brandon's relief -- he's been a bit worried about me) We are moving and Brandon will not go out of town again until then. I'm still mad. In the broad daylight I wish the bastard would show his face so I could smack it with my pointy shoes. I put a sign on the bathroom window (the one he broke in through) that says "GO AWAY." Of course the first time I showered it got wet and drippy since I'm not opening the windows now. We had an open house today (to rent this one out) so the time is near. I got my panties in a knot when I thought, "what if this guy is still watching me and he thinks we are moving away because of him?" I don't want him to think he has that much power, I want him to think he didn't scare me, I want him to feel as ineffective as I do when I come home and won't go into my own house alone if no one else is home, I want him to be afraid (be VERY afraid). I want him to get caught before he can scare or hurt anyone else. thankyou all for the well wishes... I hope I always feel this safe at the spring.

Well, frankly I am glad you are moving. I don't think I'd be able to stay in the same house if my privacy had been so brutally invaded, it would just never be the same. And I'm glad Mr. B. - Brandon is a nice name - is there now. I just hope the bastard gets caught. Do you know, we should open a topic about suitable penalties for people like that. For him I'd suggest only one: delivering him to the guy who makes wallets with human balls, and telling him to take any other parts he may be interested in as well to keep things like sausages and tampons in . . .

*laugh*

I'm in the house again, alone this time. It's nightime and I readily admit I'm a little nervous. I've been vacillating between wanting the stereo on to ward off bad thoughts and wanting it off just in case I need to tune into certain unusual sounds.

Hope you get some sleep tonight, Stacey.

Did you? Next time you have to be alone, you have to make big alarm on this topic, then we can all sit up with you.

*laugh* I did get some sleep finally... and then Brandon came home and woke me up! I must admit though, I fell asleep much more easily the second time (and slept all through the night!)

That's good. And I was being serious.

I'm drunk, I've just plodded through some stupid, depressing movie when I don't even like watching movies - I felt the need to come here and talk about things that I can't tell my own husband, because I want to protect him from me and the evil inside, and right now I really can't be bothered with writing I with a capital letter or concentrating on correct Englis . So here I am, venting, and not giving a damn about how it comes out or looks, because sometimes I just don't give a damn about anything or any ne. Most of the time I just can't be bothered to bother with things that upset me. But right now I feel bothered as hell. So bothered I could kill and satisfy myself thereby. I had a rather strange day today - one of those that just aren't supposed to happen. for some stupid f--ked up reason my daddy rang me today - I spoke to my father for the first time in over four years. Some f--ked up voice in his head must have told him that Ive actualy managed to get over the crap feelings he tried to instil in me, so he rang me, and all it was good for was to confirm the fact I hate him as much as ever and more. Fancy him telling me he would forgive me for having a bastard child with a fifty year old-man, the mr. C whom I happen to love more than my life, if I would forgive him the few mistakes he made when I was a child. These inculded only minor things of course, like chronical drunkenness and abuse of his wife. the bastard. And I stupid arsehole thought I did not hate him anymore. But I do. I just w sh he were dead. As I sit here ready to throw up I remember being taken hunting, I remember the prey being black people, I remember being taught things that make me want to throw up when I think about them, but most of all I remember the abbhorence, the hatred of him, the loathing, the wishing him dead. I have been suppressing it for four years, telling myself that i don't care any longer, that it did not matter, because i'm too far away, I have managed to escape. But I feel like killing him, and I fee like killing myself for not having killed him years ago when I wanted to and when I had the chance. The bastard had the arrogance to ask me if he could see my children, yes the bastard children I have with my Mr. C. Who in the hell does he think he is, I asked him, I told him to go die in a hole, I told him I wished he were dead, I cursed him, I wished he could have stood in front of me so I could hit him as hard as I could, I wished I could just let all this evil hatred out, and I wished myself dead. Because I don't know how I am supposed to guide two childred to become happy, healthy adults when I'm so hateful, so resentful, so evil myself. I don't know why I am a parent and I don't know how my own husband can love me, and I don't know how discuss this with him, because I fear that he might hate me, and because I lied to him - and told him my father died a long time ago. It was not a lie to me, because as far as I was concerned he died when I was seven, but I was just kidding myself and lying to he person who is supposed to know everything and anything. He thinks I am strong and in control and that nothing ever gets me down, and I feel I cannot dissappoint him. Yet I cannot bear the way I feel, and who I am. And I don't know how to put on my normal foolish happy face. And I don't know what the hell comes next or what to do. I will probably just keep on deceiving him until he dies. It's all I ever do anyway. Then why do I not feel used to it anymore. And why did that damn bastard have to s atter my certainties right now, this moment, today. Why could it not just carry on the way it has done for four years. I just don't know.

*hugs* (best I can do, my friend)

Riette, Riette, Riette. I cannot begin to understand the hell you endured in your childhood, but I do know that now is the time to seize the bliss around you that you have expressed such deep feelings for--great husband, kids, your art...he cannot touch any of these things; he has no hold on you or your life any longer. For all intents and purposes, he is dead; let the evil feelings he inspires in you die with him and unburden your heavy heart. I am focusing much loving energy your way. Do you feel it

Emotional scars get provoked and screwed up into forming emotional scar lines of horrific internal personal pictures. They can brain you and bewitch-twitch-pitch-into-a-ditch you. They're spell-binding. But you can give THEM a breathing spell. Let them go, with each exhale. You're not just standing there---the seductive magic of what's essentially true about you (your inner beauty) is wanting to take wonderful chances with your ability to renew your own revival. Your father's need to impose his will and dishonest prejudiced murderous garbage on you is laying its head on a pillow of down, where it falls asleep, a deep deep sleep. He shoulda known better, he must've had a hearing problem on top of everything else. Only reconnect with the inherent life-force of your soul, and the change coming back into your smile your energy your creative spark your loving instincts will greet your own spirit's hello with a spectacular back-on-the-go. Rev it up, girl. Hey c'mon, we're with with with you! Riette, let us have it! Your you. Your new you.

I certainly can not give insight nor support any better than WER, Autumn and jim have already done. I can only imagine your pain, hatred, frustration and fear. But this husband, this man who means the world to you, this family, this life you have made for yourself (because, make no mistake, you are responsible for the good in your life) they are your reality now. The past will always linger but certainly doesn't need to consume. Riette, you found a lot of strength inside you to break away from a man that id so much to hurt you, THAT is what you will give your children. That strength is what you can help them find in themselves. And Mr. C, he loves that strength. I know because we all love it. Be strong. *hug*

Hi, guys. Would like to apologize for inflicting upon you all that appalling post of melancholic self-indulgence. I am sorry - I hate burdening people with my silly crap, but it was a little unbearable on Saturday. I would also like to say thank you for everything. Thank you for the words of advice and comfort and support. It meant (means) a great deal to me, and I don't know if it is wrong to say this to people one has never seen, nor ever will see, but I love you all, wretched as I am at times. Thank you for tolerating me here. Unfortunately, unlike you might have thought from my silence yesterday, I was not sulking. Of only I had, I might have read all of this before doing what I did. And a silly thing it was - as I should have known, but didn't care. So I've been spending last night and this morning in hospital. See, I thought to myself, if I just sit here in this state of limbo, drinking myself into a coma I'm likely to become so self-destructive that I'll lose everything I have here and let the people who depend on me down, so I have to do something about this before I let the crap inside of me eat away my brain. So I did what I used to do when I was little to prove to myself that I had the guts to get away from my father - I jumped off my balcony, I soared and missed the sandpit by only a metre or so. Feel free to laugh or rebuke. Don't worry it was only one floor, so I knew I would not die, and was in no way suicidal. Well, it worked, and I was rather proud of myself when I got up there - until I discovered that my arm was totally broken. So I went in, told Mr. C. what had happened, and why I did it, then called a taxi and went to hospital. They kept me in for the night - which gave him time to decide what to do. To my amazement he did not ask questions or condemn me for lying to him; he held me, told me he loved me more than ever. God knows why, and what I have done to deserve so much love and kindness, but here I am. Feeling shaken, but ready and eager to live and learn some more. I am so happy to be here.

ouch.

Atta way, Riette. You came outa this alive. Interesting solution. To hurt yourself to keep you from completely doing yourself in. Glad it worked. Sure don't mean to encourage it. My hopes are that next time, if there's a next time, you will create an even better solution. Be creative. You can be your own best friend. It's a great moment when your innermost being greets you with love and understanding during your worst crisis. And just like that it helps you realize the right thing to do with the deepest darkest forces of the past or anything else. It comes...it actually does...your soul can deal with anything in life that life can throw at it...just ask and be with what comes... it's there...sorta instinctively, intuitively, if you will. Good to have you back at home. Good to have you.

Think I overdid it then? Thank you for that, Jim - not even going to try and resist - it WAS a bloody stupid thing to do. It's just that my soul is as deaf as anything right now. Don't feel creative, so that solution was and is out of the question for the moment. I'm not sure why I'm hurting so much inside - I mean I never even loved him or anything. Certainly don't see myself as a victim either. But I just feel this overwhelming, crappy urge to cry my eyes out, but I can't, because I've never cried in front of Mr. C., and I d feel too embarrassed to do so. What a pain in the arse. Anyway, I'll try and be better company tomorrow. Goodnight - hope you're having a nice day. And thank you.

just hypothesizing here but.. maybe the extra hurt/pain/anger comes from the fact that he was supposed to love you and he didn't do that very well. very liberating feeling to feel comfortable crying in front of Brandon. It is being completely emotionally naked and having him love me/accept me in that fashion which brings me peace.

and when I cry in front or behind my cat, Jah, I somehow always get a call from Brandon. He always starts with, "now don't stop crying just because I called." Then he tells me, "you don't have to just sob, Jim, let it all come out....that's better....much better....that's it, that's what I mean....when I cry and Stacey's not around, I give Mr. C a call....he says, 'is this who I think it is?'.... because, y'know, I'm just crying on the phone to him.... so he says, 'it's okay, Brandon, I'm here for you and I'm listening, you're all right now, with me'...." other times, if I'm on either side of Jah when I start crying, the phone call I get is always from Autumn. Go figure. But Autumn is different in some way. I really don't get it. Cuz I'll be cryin' on the phone for only really a few seconds, and her listening absorbs my tears before they even come out. All crying stops in its tracks. All that back up in there way in ma head ain't nuthin' but verdant hills real sudden-like. We jes walkin alongside one another in spirit. Sorta like floatin, only not. Maybe a floatin walk. And songs come up yonder outa nowhere from across and through them sky cloud colors at sundown. Then the rhythm in the walk is jez music with a feelin'. I can't quite feel her touch but I knowed she a holdin ma hand. Usually, sumpin'll happen like a twig'll snap and leaves rustle over that way a few yards. My eyes open and I just hear Autumn saying goodbye and I say bye and hang up the phone.

Yes, well, that's how it is. Funny how one gets rid of the big issues like racism and murder and violence - but smaller, subtle things, something as simple as crying; just there the conditioning somehow had to go deeper. Give me an argument, say something nasty, hit me if you like - no problem, those are the things I were conditioned to do. Ask me to love and be happy, I'll stubbornly do that too. And if I feel hurt, I can say so easily enough. But crying; I cried once when I was ten, when he took me 'black' hunting to prove to me that they were animals. I cried because I was afraid, and because I don't like to see people hurt, much less shot in the back with a double barrel rifle. Of course it helped about as much as trying to crack a nut between your thumb and little finger. The positive outcome of the incident was that it instilled once and for all my loathing for racist crap; the silly part is not being able to trust the idea of crying in front of someone else. But when I cry on my own, I just feel lonely; it does not really bring relie . Silly business. But it's time to put it out of my head now, so I'll stop complaining, and go see what's happening on the other topics. I'm sorry about all this.

I like to go to movies alone because I can cry my butt off and not feel self-conscious about it. I can laugh more easilies too, cuz no one knows me there (I don't why they don't, though, cuz I go around to everyone in the theater during the previews and introduce myself to 'em). Right now the end of my penis hurts. And my pee is real dark. Maybe I'm gonna have a baby. I think I been drinking too much strawberry-orange-banana Dole juice, and not eating enough variety in my diet (just granola and tacos, lately). I just ate some kind of cod in creamy dijon sauce. That oughta fix it. Maybe it'll be twins. Riette, I feel like what you did was creative. I called it interesting but could've just as easily called it creative. It was. And I erred when I said hurt (as in you hurt yourself in order to keep from doing something worse). Jumping into the sand down below seems like it sounds like it probably might not have hurt you, but would've done the trick as far as interrupting the severely self-destructive course the events were heading in. So I was really applauding your idea, and show didn't think it a bloody stupid thing to do. Then the part about the soul thing, whatever that (soul) is, well, I was throwing that in the pot just in case it might help you to resonate with it at some future trial in life. I meant that as being creative in another way or in another direction. But you're right, if a person is deaf to the soul, or the soul is deaf to the person, it ain't agonna happen. It seemed to me like the way I wrote that part was too directive-sounding, like I had my head up my butt when I said it to ya, and I can see why it would put one in the mood to resist. I think what Stacey was saying is monumental. I think it's true that pain/hurt/anger come from the love that wasn't there. In junior high, that's when alotta socializing was going on with people my age. It just started getting real different like that. I went into a shell with that stuff. Not with my friends who I'd do stuff with after school. But they were all male. And I just think if my parents had been really relating to me, I woulda been really relating to my parents. And then if it were real, then love coulda come in and I woulda been able to break it to them that I wasn't doin' such great shakes in the socializing department, y'know. And then they coulda helped me like break the ice of the shell SOME kinda way, I dunno how, but it coulda been done. And I think it woulda been done, IF... I sure didn't cry much back then. I was like hardened, desensitized, numb. But I can be my best friend now. I mean I can sorta help myself notice lotsa good stuff happening now that COMPLETELY passed me right by back then. I just couldn't zone in on it. Now I can. Well, little by little, anyway. For me it's in the heart coming out. Feeling. And where it's in a non-virtual social situation. But it ain't easy. But it's not quite so shut down anymo'. See, I'm real in touch with ma feelin's, but not in touch hardly at all with how to say 'em and do 'em and be 'em with someone else live. I shy. I inhibitidtidted. self-conscious, i show is. and i knows why i gots da low self-worth floozies.....it's cuz i know i don't know how to not hold back and stuff and so that tells me that the other person gonna feel limitidtidted arounds me and so my worth natcherly ain't worth a crack a butt, I surely reckons.

Good to know your parents f--ked up too - but I'm sorry you felt lonely when you needed to feel the opposite. Mum was/is nice though - don't know what the hell she had to marry a sicko, but it's her business. And don't worry about the creative thing - even if you thought it was stupid, it doesn't really matter. It was stupidly creative, and it's a damned pain having to type with one hand. But it is as you said; I was merely trying to shock myself back to reality - pity there isn't such a thing as reality pills, hey? One of my greatest fears is the fear of heights, even if it's a mere one storey high. I find it absolutely terrifying standing on my kitchen table, and jumping from something quite high is for me the ultimate fear-horror experience. So when I am so upset that I grow afraid of myself, I do the test: if I have the guts to jump from a high thing, then I know I have the guts to deal with whatever it is that upsets me; if I don't . . . well, I've always managed the jump (though this is only the third time I've brok n a limb), but if ever I don't, I'll get help. So, anyway, don't worry - what you said did not come out THAT twisted, especially considering the fact that you're having a sore willy. Must be difficult to concentrate on anything. Try ointment for baby buttocks - works for anything from mosquito bites to sore willies! But don't think I'm going to take your advice on crying: you know how expensive it is to go to the cinema? I sure won't pay SFR. 22- just to go cry my eyes out with strange people staring at me. No, heck, they'll all run out, and sue me for indecent exposure or something. No, I'll call you instead - your riddle talk is bound to make me feel better at some point. Now go get that ointment for your willy - it's starting to affect yer langeruage.

i hope it's twins Jim... would you like some name suggestions? no rhymey names... that really screws with a self-image. how about... Abigail and Zander or Fred and Bert or Addison and Connor or Andrew and Zoe (that's WER's daughter's name (just the Zoe part)) or trent and d.f. or LSD and PCP or dill and sweet or hmmm... well... you guys give some suggestions.

I have the feeling that your poems get into some humor somewhere along the line. Of those names, Zoe really stood out. I'd forgotten how much I like it. Phoebe or Phoeb, I like too. My obstetrician, Shoeless Gwimmy Poo, asked me if I cared to look at a sonogram. I told her I cared. That's when I found out it's triplets. Gwimmy asked me real on the spot-like, "well, have you ever considered the name Stacey?" I says, "You mean like for myself, as a nickname or something?" "No, Bugs, for one of your babies." "Well, once when I was watching a TV special on tight ends, there was this one they came to, named Stacey Vura, she's real big in Colorado, I would say pretty much the Michael Jordan of Ultimate Frisby there, I considered it then, that was about a week ago." "Uh-huh, uh-huh, and....." "Well, I'm already getting intimations of things to come, because there's one bun in the oven that's got a huge amount of energy, see, SEE!, that one right there! it ricocheted off the other 2 that time, that of course would have to be Stace and I dunno what she thinks she's doin' in there, but how'm I ever gonna last thru this? I got what, 8 more months to go? I do know one thing, though, no matter what, it's gonna be natural childbirth for me all the way....I'm a real woman....I'm organic....say, Gwimmy, you do any midwifing in yer spare time?" "Jim, you're a man, get real! And yes, I will midwife your 3 for you." "Great. But Gwimmy, be sure and really prep yerself, I think you'll truly wanna be ready for Stacey! Close the window before birth, or don't be surprised if she shoots right outa me and out the window too.....and probably make some kinda catch."

Ha-ha!!! So, real woman, where are these triplets supposed to come out, hey? The not-too-hairy backside, I suppose. Why don't you start practising by sticking a water melon up your backside - 'cos that's how it feels, only the water melon goes the other way, doesn't it? Three of them, called Zoe, Phoebe and Stacey? Holy cow! Sure the names will be worth the effort. But I'm worried about that sore Willy - I mean, that's probably where real women called Jim's Fallopian tubes sit . . . meaning there could be a fourth one hiding in there somewhere - boy, are you going to be the envy of the town's boys in about four months' time or what?!?!

*laugh* just don't feed the bouncy one anymore chocolate!

Yeah, swallow a few magnets - it'll keep them all nicely together and quiet. Has the morning sickness started yet? What are you now . . . five weeks or so? They say one doesn't get so sick with boys, so I hope Stacey Phoebe and Zoe are going to come out with the appropriate genitalia!

Hon, you've got a lot of decisions to make--cloth or disposable? Bottle or breast? Pacifiers, for or against?