I have been stifled, stymied and downright constipated when it comes to writing for this blog. There has been something on my mind that I didn’t think I should right about on this blog, but it seems if I don’t, I won’t be writing. So this incident occrred just over a week ago at the second garage sale. My son was with me for the day to help. The incident occurred at the end of the garage sale. It was bad enough that my son was begging to leave even though we still had a little cleaning up to do. I also had to get some items back that had been loaned. For these, I had to wait until they were finished. I will let you guess what kind of trouble two people can cause that would make others angry and want to leave. I once considered this person a friend, but no longer. We didn’t even get an apology, which I think most people would do. I have little else to say about it that doesn’t include ranting and swearing. I feel better now. Here’s to the end of writer’s block!

Whose rules do you play by? Yours? Others? How do you figure out others’ rules without asking directly? Doesn’t everyone play according to their own rules?

I began thinking about this a week ago when someone told me that I play my games by my rules (considered good) and I play others’ games by my rules (considered bad). I do know enough about myself to know that if I don’t like the rules, I don’t play.
The intensive thinking came about from a discussion last night about the games we play in life. Everything can be reduced to a game. My biggest concern is how to keep a game going for a long time. Games start out pretty good. Things go well. Everyone is happy. Then stuff happens–could be anything. Arguments. Petty personality issues (often happens at work). Then the game isn’t as much fun so then it dies a slow death. I’ve seen this in just about every area of my life. Doing something new is great for awhile. Then I become disillusioned. Sometimes I quit after that. If I don’t leave, I’ve left anyway because I’m not really there.

This Friday and weekend I attended the Landmark Forum seminar. Mr. O gave me a little push to go. Ultimately, it was my choice to go. I became curious after lengthy conversations. So what did I get out it? A lot. I am finding more and more that I got out of it. The most important things to me were re-connecting with my sister after 20 years of avoiding each other and talking with my son’s father about our son.

There is no way to fully thank the person who introduced me to this class. I had never heard about it before. Now, my mother and sister are both asking me about the seminar. I sincerely hope that they are both able to attend. It made such a huge difference for me that I want to see that happen for everyone I know.

I got my voice back. I notice that I’m talking to people in a very different way. I am actually asking for what I want instead of expecting people to know or guess. I don’t know exactly how that happened. It wasn’t something I “worked” on.

I will be at the advanced course this weekend. More stuff…more long days.

Fifteen years ago today, I stood before justice of the peace, seven months pregnant and got married. My mother was there. I don’t remember the other witness. I can say that no one should do significant and life changing things on holidays–as you will remember it forever. I don’t remember every year, but it has come to mind this year. Perhaps because I have been going over a lot of stuff in my life–a lot of idiotic things I’ve done. This was one. Why? I got married because I thought it was the right thing to do according to family and society. Never, ever do anything for those reasons. I remember the horrible headache and voice I heard screaming in my head “NO!” when I was asked to say “I do.” It is the biggest regret of my life, and nothing seems to change that. Not time. Not other people telling me I should have no regrets. All the signs were there that I chose to ignore because I was caught up in doing the right thing.

I have been divorced for nearly 14 years now. I have yet to figure out if that really means anything. If my life had gone a different course, perhaps I’d still be unmarried.

I had no party. No dress. No cake. No honeymoon. No friends. No family–except my mother. Our relationship was a bit strained at the time. While it sounds unusual, people in my family get married that way: civil ceremony, immediate family only. My sister has been the only one who had a wedding.

Can a former boyfriend really be happy that you have a new boyfriend? I wrote about the ex who seems to call right when I’m seeing someone else. I told him about Mr. O. He said he was happy for me. But is he really? Is that possible? I was never all that happy to hear about his girlfriends. So maybe this is a case of overthinking, but I still have to wonder. I won’t make myself crazy wondering. It was just on my mind this morning.

I’m looking at what I have going on this week. I’m less busy than last week. I have no family out here, so it looks like I will be spending Thanksgiving with my dog and cats. In past years, I have cooked a meal. I don’t eat turkey, so it’s usually chicken. My pets love the smells, but the cats are picky and don’t really eat baked chicken. Crazy cats. The hula/tahitian dance show is Sunday, which means I will be busy all day with that even though I dance for about 10 minutes total.

I hear the end of that title reverberating. Too bad blogs don’t have sound. I guess they can, but I’m not fond of them. You might even hear Darth Vader music in your head, but I’d rather save that for another ex.

Why is it that ex-boyfriends come out as soon as you’ve found a new one? Can they smell it? I’m still friends with an ex. We dated for a year and a half, but it has been more than 3 years since we broke up. He broke it off, not me. Every time I get interested in someone else, he calls. I swear he can sense it even though I haven’t talked to him in weeks. I’ve now gotten two phone calls within a week. I never get calls like that. He’s out of town for work too! He never called me when he was out of town for work when we dated. The whole thing makes me crazy. Yes, I’ve met a cool new guy. I don’t know where it’s going, which makes my mind think some crazy stuff because it likes to KNOW things. It’s also why I am having trouble coming up with topics for this blog—my mind is focused elsewhere. I still don’t get how it always happens that as soon as I find someone else this past guy comes into the picture. I don’t discuss my dating with him.

Anyone else out there had one of these? My mind would sure like to make sense of this one.

Technorati: the crazy things people do

When E. found out about my blog, he wanted to know if I had written about him.

“No.”
“Why not?”

I’m thinking at time why would he want me to write about him? I hardly know what to say. But, I’m going to give it a try.

E. was a pretty serious love for a year and half. We had fun. He would at least concede that. He’s a good-looking guy and keeps in good shape. He’s not terribly tall—in fact we are almost the same height. He also has quite a bit of body hair—which he hates—and I loved. If you had asked me about hairy men before I met him, I would have said, “yuck.” But his was soft and petable. To this day, he thinks I’m crazy for that.

Then there was his smell. No, not that kind of smell—a natural smell. He doesn’t wear scented stuff of any kind. I loved—still love—his smell. Again, he thinks it is weird. I’ve never liked someone’s natural smell so much in my life. I even have smell memories. Ever thought of someone while they are away and then smelled them? I have. He has a job that requires him to be out of town a lot. One time when he left for a few weeks, I made him leave me a worn shirt. I know he thought I was nuts, but smelling that shirt made me feel that he was close by.

We could talk for hours about everything—still can. We got along better than I have with anyone. Why did it end? You’ll have to ask E. because I have no reasonable explanation. I’m sure my being unemployed didn’t help things. I’m sure I acted needy, maybe even clingy. I had lost my job and most of my friends, except him. And then the bottom fell out of my life: no job, no friends, no boyfriend. I couldn’t date for a long time without being reminded of him. Well, I still remember now and then. We’re still friends, and we find time on rare occasions to catch up.

Since I agreed to meet an old “friend” from graduate school this coming weekend, I had to find out where this guy was staying in San Francisco so I could find a coffee house. Well, once I found out I nearly fell out of my chair laughing.

Anyone who knows San Francisco will understand. But I don’t know it that well, so I will explain. The conference is at the Moscone conference center, which is near Market and Mission, putting it in the Mission district. Although a visit to the Moscone center website says it’s in the downtown district. Whatever. It’s near Mission, which is near Market St. Why SF is divided into “districts” I have no idea. They aren’t real districts–marked on a map–just convenient ways to say where you live within the city. It’s a bit like a secret code that only San Franciscans know. You say you live in Nob Hill and people nod and seem to know something about you. Nob Hill means you probably have more money than the person speaking to you. And of course there’s Haight-Ashbury, which has turned into yuppie-ville. The hippies can’t afford to live there anymore and haven’t been able to for some time now.

Anyway, Market and Mission Streets have a unique atmosphere. Anyone who has visited SF will know. Although if you get up to Castro and Mission, it gets even more interesting.

Now, this guy is from Missouri. Hasn’t been outside Missouri much. Missouri doesn’t have the various ethic groups that we have here nor does it have the peculiarities that SF is known for. I have to give him some credit for living in a suburb of St. Louis, so he’s familiar with larger cities. But St. Louis is nothing like SF. There is no city in the world like SF.

I hadn’t heard of the hotel he said he was staying at, so I had to look it up. It’s obviously one of the cheaper hotels in the area. R teaches at a community college last I heard. They make less than professors and much less than teachers at either type of college out here. He’s probably lucky to afford the trip.

My internet search on this hotel turned up some interesting information. The building is from 1909. Not everyone who has stayed there has been very happy. It turns out that this hotel is recommended by a gay travel site as being very gay-friendly, and it is run by a gay man. R doesn’t know this. I am sure he doesn’t know this. All of this will make a very interesting stay in SF for him. I can hardly contain my glee over seeing this homophobic nitwit’s reaction when he finds out where he is staying.

I have tried to talk another friend of mine into coming (to take pictures and act gay—just to mess with his mind), but he won’t. But he’s soooooo good at it. I’m sure there will be plenty to disturb R on a Saturday afternoon on Market Street without any help. Small-minded people like R are so much fun to mess with.

Right now, I don’t have any particular coffee house in mind. It’s Market Street. If I can’t find one, then I must be blind. When I mentioned to a friend that I wasn’t all that interested in meeting R while he’s in SF, he wanted to know why I was. Well, I hate going back on my word. But now it is like a train wreck just waiting to happen, and I have to see. I must bring my camera and actually remember to take a picture or two.

Technorati: San Francisco, travel, St. Louis