30 August 2008

Well, it happened, I've turned fifty-two. This past week. It's been an interesting week:)

I'm playing with a full deck now, according to a fellow 52er, and as a full deck player I feel I am entitled to a whole hell of a lot of respect. I appear to be getting it, too, as work yesterday went along nicely, and that has gone a good way towards improving my mood and outlook-not that I am stupid enough to believe things will ever improve there to the point that I look forward to each new business day. I don't. I literally have to drag myself there, and the disappointment that creates is depressing to say the least.

But oh well, I seem to be getting through it and that realization is a help. Crusty wanted me to have to drag myself to work so that I would know how he felt everyday-not going to ever happen. He had me to try and help him see Life does not have to be such a flippin' tragedy-I have no living breathing optimist standing next to me, dammit, but in spite of Crusty's very best efforts, I am still willing to be optimist for myself.

Speaking of the sorry piece of East-Euro-trash Crusty, Hurricane Gustav has him set for being on the worst side of the storm when it hits. I am trying VERY hard to pray the storm falls apart before it hits the Gulf Coast, but frankly I really think it would be bloody perfect if Gustav hit Crusty, but just Crusty and his house, and just about anything he holds dear except living beings, and washes every bit out to sea. Most important, if the storm does hit Crusty (and only Crusty, please God) I pray with my whole entire heart and soul that that sorry excuse for a person DOES NOT GET ANOTHER TAX-PAYER FUNDED REBUILT BEACH SHACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I cannot tell you, dear and gentle reader, how very outraged the notion of Crusty and his ilk using hard working tax-payer money to rebuild a house in such a disaster prone area makes me.

I mean, COME ON! If we as a people can be angry about welfare cheats, how is it that we turn and pay to rebuild the ultimate welfare cheat's follies on the beach?

Growing up in Southern California I watched in amazement as people built houses (expensive, and in clusters-a certain recipe for disaster!) along sand cliffs-excuse me, sand cliffs? WTF were they thinking?? Certainly not "I say, it certainly does not make sense to build a home along a sand cliff that has traditionally and annually crumbled during the SoCal rainy season, now does it my dear?"

And they built in arroyos-dry creek beds for those of you raised elsewhere. HUH?? DRY CREEK BEDS? There is a good reason you do not build a camp in a dry creek bed-like when it rains that dry creek bed becomes a raging mini-river waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay faster than you could scream "OH S*IT!"

We live on a geo-physically unstable planet. Meaning-some places are nice to visit but you certainly wouldn't want to live there.

And I am certain I do not ever again want to spend my hard earned money supporting your surely drug-induced arrogance

So, if you live in a disaster prone area, I say, except for immediate humanitarian aid, you are and should be, on your damn own.

As in rebuild at your expense, not mine, you cheating idiot wanker (and oh yes, I damn sure know what that bit of vernacular means).


I am a climate refugee. I did not ask my fellow Americans to support my habit of living in danger zones. I got the hell outta there, and have been working hard ever since to pay my own way. It has not been easy. I actually need some help but I am not about to ask for a free ride, and I really think a free ride is what these morons are asking for when they go back and rebuild.

Why is it different for Them-because they built ridiculously expensive beach 'McMansions' and that somehow makes helping them cover their stupidity more right than helping some poor kid who made the colossal mistake of not being born into an upper income family, so they couldn't afford college or even staggering amounts of student loan debt loads, so they had to take a low paying job, which made every day a struggle and they couldn't afford to relocate, or even pay for the gas to get the beater loaded up and outta there...

Jesus weeps.

24 August 2008

I have been remiss-this is a blog and I should keep on it better.

A blog is an online journal, used by the unknown to update the blogger's social circle updated.

Or, in the case of the completely unknown, a blog is used to vent, examine, consider, keep track and keep on track.

I have the rare reader and do not even respond most times, so socially inept have I become in the past two+ years I've been writing this thing.

I open the dashboard and find myself paralyzed-in my increasingly boring life, what could I possibly have to say?

My life has become terribly boring-I know very few people, go no-where but to and from work with the rare exception of a quick shopping trip through a store on my daily to/from work route. The shopping trips are equally boring, I run in and grab a few groceries from Publix or grooming basics from the Wal-Mart (a store I especially detest but must frequent for my allergy meds and less expensive cat food). I try to make the trips count so that I do not have to come back any time soon.

Once upon a time I was much less boring and I grieve deeply for the lost and missing Me.

I want my life back; I want my son, my grandson, a home, a place, a bloody damn meaning!

Friday night as I surfed a news site I read that a US diplomat has been sentenced to twenty years for committing sex crimes against children in the countries he was posted to. Reading this of course reopened wounds, and I googled the ex only to have his father's obituary come up.

My ex-father-in-law died in hospice care on 18th Feb 2008. The obit listed his survivors leaving off my son, and I have such mixed emotions!

Firstly, because I know now that my suspicions are correct (Crusty filled his all too willing to believe family with lies to cover his prosecutable crimes) and I find it incredibly sad that Fox has been cheated yet again by an utterly evil man.

Yet...those were the most wretched people! Their life was small, colourless, empty, venal, meaningless, and a complete illusion. Made it easier to buy into Crusty's lies, although at least one of his sisters knew the truth about just what a piece of ambulatory fecal matter her brother is. She lacked the courage to turn her back. A self-confessed coke whore (to me one night during yet another of the torturous 'family reunions' his mother was always having), she further confessed she had no courage whatsoever in regards to her mother...

But his mother, while a real pill, did try and so did his father. I think that the years and years of his lies finally caught up, and in 1997 I flat refused to go to see them...

He got me to pack the car and we went, the three of us, to Charlotte, North Carolina. He wanted to check the town out as he was contemplating moving us there. On the way back he pulled off at his parents exit (near Greenville, South Carolina); I was filled with cold dread at the thought of having to endure his parent's inhospitality and I got him to stop in the car park of a local business-closed as it was Sunday afternoon.

Fox and I got out of the car and flatly refused to go another inch if it meant ending at his parents crumbling piece of carpet bagging excess. A tremendous row ensued and the owner of the business came out to see if he needed to ring for the police.

Crusty was frantic that Fox and I accompany him to his parents, my son and I were equally frantic to not.

We won that one, my son and I. Five miserable hours later we were in our own drive, into the house, and back into our unhappy routine.

The illusions.

I begged, many many many many many times for a paternity test, for he acted as though he did not believe Fox was his son, and others, primarily his family, acted that way too, and I finally got it, too late, that Crusty was slandering me behind my back and had been from the start.

But from very nearly the start I begged him to go for a paternity test because I stupidly believed that once he knew the truth he would change, be a better and nicer person...

How really very stupid of me, ya know?!

He didn't want to know the truth and he could not afford to have me know either.

And deep down inside, I used to tell myself that if by some miracle Fox was not Crusty's child, I could grab up my beautiful boy and get the bloody hell out of Dodge without any qualms or guilt that I was breaking up a family, the way I felt when I divorced my daughter's father so many years before.

Because there are only two reasons I stayed. One being that, and the other being the gun Crusty kept to mine and Fox's heads all though horrific years.

Crusty's little snowball, I wonder, did his father ever know the real truth? Will my son?

I want my life back; I want my son to know the truth. I want vindication and I want all of this before my son is another day older-I WANT MY FAMILY BACK, DAMN IT!