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Cardboard Canoe

Tuesday, Apr. 25, 2006 @ 10:40 pm
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I haven't updated for awhile, despite the fact that I've written several entries in my head. I just can't seem to think on one line long enough to actually write them out. I have them in my head at work or when I'm out and about, but when I get home and have time to get on line, I just don't feel like hopping on line. Used to be I couldn't go more than a few hours with out withdrawl. Now I've gone days voluntarily.

I just seem spacey, like I can't keep my mind on one track for long. I still function at work and things at home for the most part are getting done: the dishes are kept up, the house doesn't look like a crack den, Warren has decent homecoked meals with actual nutrition, I make it to work and do my job. But I can't help but feel like I'm just going thru the motions.

I'm sure a lot of this has to do with the idiot being out. I should know by now not to let him get to me. He says the things he says because he hates himself so much he can only convince himself he has any worth by taking somebody else down a notch. His 12 year old son can see thru his tactics ("just ignore him mom like I do, he just wants to start something"), but despite knowning this I always seem to grab the bait.

As Warren said "we both know you've been there for me, so what does it matter what he thinks" Warren is right (pretty smart for a kid), but I guess part of me just wants him to admit that he put us thru hell, that he is a lousy father and that his problems are all of his own doing. I realize that we'll probably see a Jewish Pope before this happens, but it doesn't stop me from wishing.

He also thinks he can just waltz back in after nine months and take over, while I just step aside, so he can play daddy, and try to make nicey nice. Sorry I don't abondon my kid for anyone or anything, especially not because his father wants to try and ease a conscience that has every reason to feel guilty, and deserves to feel bad.

I get more depressed just talking about him.

On the good news front my clothes are all getting so loose I can't keep some of them on. I tried on a size smaller and it actually fit. I can't say it fit well, but I could wear it. Three months ago, I wouldn't have gotten it past my knees, now I got it on and zipped. I looked like a sausage, but I got it on. I should be thrilled, and I was for awhile. But then I just started thinking that they (Lane Bryant, being a fat chick store) probably just cut the sizes more generously to make thier customers happier. Defeating my own joy. I also feel guilty everytime I enjoy something.

We had a going away potluck for one of the supervisors at work. One of the guys made deep fried turkey (deep fried a whole bird that is, yummmmy), and somebody else made Jack Daniels wings. Along with many of the traditional turkey trimmings. I brought veggies and dip (natch), the only thing that didn't fly off the table. I made a bit of a pig of myself. I did leave the chips and soda and candy alone, but I still had way to much fat, salt and other crap. I walked a half hour over my lunch break but still felt like it wasnt' enough. I rode bike to the grocery store twice today, and did two loads of laundry in addition to other cleaning. So why do I still feel huge.

Lunch was taco salad (80% lettuce), dinner was homemade from scratch chicken strips (much healthier than the store bought ones), couscous (I love the sound of that.. couscous, couscous, couscous....), with Spinach and broccoli. But I still feel like I should be doing more. I know it's not healthy to starve or over exercise. I now it has to be slow or it will just come back (or worse hello Ana-Mia). But like all multi-tasking over worked Americans I want what I want now dammit.

Life however has no trouble reminding me that things worth having are worth earning and that takes time. I guess I have to learn patience despite my wishes.

I have a hair appointment on Saturday. I've decided to get rid of the gray streaks and get my hair professionally colored, by the same person who gave me my cut (I had more compliments on it than with any other hair cut). But I'm not sure what I want to do. The lady who booked me asked if I want the foil or just a straight color. I told her I have no idea. I just want something bright, but that fits my natural coloring and looks natural not dyed. I want it to look like real hair color. I hate it when somebody has a bad dye job that you can spot a mile a way. I have nothing against a pink stripe or a blue patch. I think its cool, and have considered it myself. But not being all that punk, I want my general hair color to lean toward color normally found in nature, which flatters my skin tones, preferabbly something with reddish undertones, as that always seemd to look best on me.

I should be so lucky that my toughest choice is a hair color. Sometimes I feel like I'm putting make up on a cow. Decorating the outside to hide the inside. I seem to waffle between not giving a damn what anyone thinks and caring too much.

I'm sailing up the Missisipi in a card board canoe, and I just lost my paper oars.


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~*~Have you read these~*~

~ Ode to a child who is no more ~
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In every neighborhood there is at least one house that all the neighbors gossip about. This is a diary from the woman who lives in that house. I am a single mother in her mid thirties. I live in North Dakota with my son, Warren.

I tend to be a bit of a slob, and am the opposite of a girly-girl. I am geek girl, who loves Star Wars, Star Trek, Harry Potter, Buffy, Angel, action movies, science fiction, action adventure, Dr. Who, and so on and so on.

I love to write and while I don't post much fiction online anymore I would love to be a writer someday. I am also overweight, bipolar and suffer from allergy induced asthma.