with me.

sometimes i just need somebody
beside me
just to feel lonely
don't tell me that you understand
that you feel me
i'd trade your pituy

just to be...
just to breathe...
you don't really want me this way.
i don't think that i'll ever change.

i had no idea that i could be human
that i could destroy
i want to avoid

we both know that it could have been anyone.
to do the things that you've done.
be who i've become.

but it was me...
it was me...
you don't really want me this way .
i dont think that i'll ever change.
and all the mistakes that i've made.
they can't be healed by your name.

so let me be...
let me breathe..
i don't really want you this way.
i don't think that you'll ever change.

coming out of hybernation is really an awful feeling.
i want to crawl back into my cave and go back to sleep.
forever.

god, yes, i have feelings. all of them. in hyperdrive, overkill, wreckless abandon. with fervor, and vehenmency, and mountains of regret i have them all.

except happiness. i've lost that one in amongst everything else. anger, dissatisfaction, confusion, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain.

you punched me in the stomach today. with out intent, i know. but still, you don't think do you? you never really think about what you are doing when you do it.
you are of no consequence.
no folly.

and i have such an uproar of feeling that i can't even figure out which feeling i am feeling at this moment.

i can't put a name to it's face. but it's face is horrified. stricken. weeping and gnashing it's teeth.

oh. my. god. what have i done?

i wish i could blame you. but i did it, too. we are all equally horrible people. all of us. each and everyone. mean. ugly. selfish. hateful. murderous.

but for some reason, i wish just one of those awful people were here with me now. to make me forget that i am supposed to be so damn unhappy right now. so lost. so sad. i just want someone to make me forget.

and still...i remember.

to you.

like a massive white wall that has years of grim and scuff-marks.
i stare at you in complete overwhelm thinking "this job is too great for me"
...someone of my stature.

i can't stand tall enough to paint your very tiptop.
to cover your scratches.

and you aren't my wall to fix anyway.
though offer suggestiong i might. if no one has the energy or the desire to make you shiney and new...it may never happen.

so we all stand here - my crew of critics and i - with furrowed brows, hands to our chin, tapping our feet.
knowing what needs to be done.
each of us wanting to fix this wall our certain way.
each of us knowing our way is the best.

but no one is as frustrated as i am that the wall just doesn't seem to paint itself.

i love what the wall was when it was first built.
i love what the wall - in my mind - is going to be when someone finally touches it up.

magic doesn't happen overnight, i guess. so i sit. wanting. aching. needing you to make yourself something i want to look at.

right now, i don't want to look at you.

it's biblical.

i vaguely remember my mom taking me to one of those free clinics when i was younger. my memory is pretty fuzzy about the whole thing, because i tend to black-out bad memories (like 7th grade) so i can't really recall WHY we were at the clinic. maybe we were going because i was sick? she was sick? um...maybe it wasn't even a free clinic really...it may have just been in a bad part of town and LOOKED free what with all the crickets on the floor and the lack of english used in the lobbies....but whatever. i am trying to paint a picture here. just go with it.

in fact, let me embellish:

when i was little, i was dying of some rare disease so my mom took me to Juarez, Mexico to a free clinic...and the entire experience has scarred me for life. the rare disease, however...i can't recall...but the clinic. man...i won't forget that...

and that is pretty much how Duncan is probably feeling about me today. to save a few bucks, i decided to take him to the free clinic to get fixed. the local SPCA is literally 2 miles from my house, and i live in a really nice area...so...i don't know what i was thinking...that this place would be a palace? They charge pennies to snip his marbles off and i thought we would be greeted with champagne and those fancy dog biscuits from those silly dog stores that are in Snider Plaza? sometimes i wonder why i don't think things through properly.

have you ever been to the spca? it's....dirty. and smells of cat urine and pain. you can hear 75 little dogs screaming from the back rooms and the cats. my god...so many cats....

Duncan knew something was up because he started getting sick in the car on the way to the SPCA. i fully believe that little goblin can read my mind, and he knew i was about to deceive him royally. And when we walked into the dog/torture chamber, i could feel him begin to hate me...much like i fictionally hated my mother for taking me to that fictional free clinic in mexico.

i have become increasingly overdramatic in the recent years. i don't know if it is for shock-value or entertainment sake so much, but i get so squeamish these days and also i have such VIVID dreams...so i realize what i say here is as 100% ridiculous as it sounds, but i am worried. like...motherly worried. i dreamt last night that christopher made me electrocute Duncan and so today when i handed him over to the SPCA, i began to worry about all sorts of things:

1. what if they accidentally put him up for adoption?
2. what if he becomes crippled?
3. what if he is sick tonight and i have to stay home and not go to that party i was so looking forward to going to?
4. what if the teeth bleaching stuff i use makes my teeth permanently sensitive?

But mostly, like my lack of memory of my fictional rare fatal disorder, i wonder if Duncan is going to miss his boy bits when he chases his tail from now on.....

when i was 22, i dated an older guy. i am giong to be 100% honest here...he was 13 years older than me. i was 22, he was 35. i was still in college, and young, and carefree, and my chest was pert, and i could live on 3 hours of sleep. he was...old. and liked 80's music. and drove an old car that smelled funny. and wore tapered leg jeans (when i first met him).

i always used to tease him about being old. jokes about alzheimers and hip-fractures, and osteoarthritis, and the like were in my daily repetoire. he was good about it. mostly because i am so delicious...and it never really seemed to hurt his feelings but moreso just made him laugh. it was fun.

we went to six flags together once. we took his then-13 year old neice and one of her buddies with us. that was interesting. because i was somewhere in between the two. in fact, i was closer to their age bracket. and he was out of the loop...or so i thought.
at one point, when we were arguiing about music or somesuch, the friend of the neice said to me and the boyfriend "whatever....that's because ya'll are OLD NEWS" because we didn't like the same kind of music that they like.

i didn't take the old man joke as well as he did. mostly because this was the first time in my entire life that i was the butt of the old-person joke, and it didn't feel good. it made me feel....wrinkly. besides, HE was old news! not me! i was merely 22! he was old enough to be my father, too (which would be really really sad....but whatever...you CAN procreate at 13, i think.) why were these girls teaming up on me? why was i not the uncle's cool girlfriend? why was i just the fuddy duddy? this is an OUTRAGE!!!!!!!

and from that day forward, i have had a complex about being "old news". it's an idea that creeps up on me almost daily when i am in my car. because i still don't like the music that some of the 13 year olds are listening to.
my favorite station used to be the edge. it was alternative rock. it was the radio station people were allowed to cuss on.....but one day somewhere in between 22 and 26 that changed, i started tuning into mix. the music of the 80s 90s and today...

and most recently, i have found myself really depreciating agewise when i listen to the likes of the Lite rock station and the ::gasp:: oldies. (in my defense, i do NOT call music from my childhood oldies, thank you very much)

but when i would rather listen to the fuddy duddy stations instead of the cool pop stations like all the hipsters, it gets me thinking...have i become the old fart that doesn't evolve with the styles and the tastes of today but instead stays stuck forever in my favorite time-period?

have i become the older boyfriend?!

but then something lovely happened. The alternative rock station started magically playing good music again. and even though it is the exact same tune that i can hear on the oldies station or the lite rock station....the station that is broadcasting my favorite music is the edgy young station.

and all of a sudden, i am back in the loop.

i am missing something.

when i get to heaven, i will need to have a few words with God. i imagine most people have a laundry list of things they want to go over with the big boss, so this isn't so much a new concept, but...i feel like voicing my opinions loudly on a grand scale about one certain topic that has been weighing on my mind:

wisdom teeth.

why?
WHAT FOR?
is there some greater purpose in God's will for wisdom teeth other than what we know about them?
is there something that we humans are missing?

a few months ago, some nicely dressed cute guy waltzed into my office and caught me on a good day. he was selling teeth whitening packages. after flirting for a few minutes, he convinced me and mom to buy them. it was a good deal, so why not. the kicker was i had to go to a certain dentist to get the whitening. so what?

my appt with this new dentist was on monday. everything was normal. the office smelled of fluoride and fear...i took xrays, had my teeth cleaned, checked for cavities and was told that it was high time that i get my wisdom teeth removed.

which, i knew. i mean....it's obvious that something has gone terribly awry when your gorgeous teeth have erupted little teethlings in the back of your mouth that are black. BLACK. i know. gross.

as i was checking out and making an appt to pick up the teeth whitening trays for next week, i was asked if i wanted to have my wisdom teeth extracted that afternoon. wow. so fast. and we just met....of course i wanted it done. better now that never...or worse, better now than to wait until my teeth COMPLETELY rot.

when given a quote for the cost of extraction from the receptionist of $863.00 i started laughing. i have insurance that is supposed to cover this sort of thing and my cost would STILL be more than a new sofa? um....i'll take the new sofa.

i strictly remember chickening out about 4 years ago from getting my teeth removed when i didn't have insurance and my cost was going to be 700 dollars. so how...in four years....did the cost quadruplify? it was time for research, ya'll. and those of you who know me well know how much i loooooove to research nonsensical things.

i called a previous dentist, gave them my insurance info and asked for a quote. 500 bucks. which was a heck of a deal compared to the other, so i took it. made the appt for tuesday.

i actually did really well on the day of "surgery" i had the dentist hook me up to the elephant nose thing, and i giggled away hugging my knees as they did the surgery. it was all pretty scientific, too. (especially when i got home and started drilling on my old teeth to see what a cavity smells like when you cut a tooth in half...)

the fun part? the cost ended up only being $180 dollars. apparantly, the OTHER dentist decided to tell my insurance that my two bottom teeth would have to be carved out even though they were fully "erupted" (that's dentist-speak) because their extraction was coded as a more invasive procedure, my insurance would only cover 50%. At the GOOD dentist, they coded my procedure correctly and the insurance covered 80%. PLUS they are about 50% cheaper in the first place. PLUS PLUS this dentist has a contract with my insurance agency which gave me an even BETTER dicsount. weeeeeeeee.

i saved almost 700 bucks by driving to mesquite instead of using a fancy pants plano DDS. Smart move on me!

So...i went out and bought a new sofa. :)

17 days

I am having surgery in 17 days. I'm pretty excited about it all. And most people don't know about it yet. Which is OK. it's no one's business but mine, my husband's, my doctor's, and....my bank's. :)

It will be exciting to post about it once it happens and I start getting better.

healthy sounds good. it's a concept i have never really known anything about. so i am interested in what it will be like. :)