Epilogue

I talk to demons. Or to be more specific they talk to me. So it sounds crazy, I get that, and if not the massive quantities of medication that I’ve been on, as well as the multiple trips to the Mountain Valley Psych Unit, would have been enough to convince me. However, it never stopped the demons. They’re persistent bastards, that’s for sure, and no amount of lithium will drive them away or quiet their rage. Rage that becomes my rage.




You are probably saying to yourself, this is clearly the demented ramblings of a crazy person, demons don’t exist, and if I were in your place, I would believe the same thing but hear me out, I might be able to change your mind.



I had planned to start all of this with my boring personal history but suffice it to say, I was a quote unquote, normal child who was minding her own business one day when I was approached by a little boy my own age. As all children do, I happily put my hand in his and we became fast friends. It never occurred to me to question the existence of him, for he was simply, my friend and he needn’t be anything else. When I needed someone to push me on the swings, he was there. When I wanted to play hide and seek, he sought. It was a simple exchange, I took and he gave, and I was content to continue this relationship forever. Then one day, he wouldn’t swing me or seek me out. Instead he spoke, for a long time, in a language I shouldn’t have understood but did.



The boy told me of places and things that I couldn’t have conceived of in my worst nightmares, and yet, I wasn’t scared, not like I should have been. The whole thing felt familiar to my younger self so his next words didn’t cause as much terror as they probably should have.



I’ve done for you now you do for me.



I could have played it stupid and asked what he was talking about but already he and I had a connection, something invisible that tethered us together. What he wanted wasn’t immediately clear but in time, the clarity would come, our connection strengthened by the years, the deeds, the mutually beneficial union of parasite and host.



There have been others, other creatures as terrifyingly hideous as he was beautiful that come to me, but he is mine, he is the one that I was created for, he is the one that shares my world. He grows as I grow, he changes as I change. He punishes or praises me when I’m disobedient, with no life in his eyes. I am his life and I punish and praise him with a hand as creative as his and with more life in my eyes than he could ever hope to own.



This is how my story begins, confused and disjointed and I’m sure that you’ve already decided you know how this story goes but even you might be surprised.

True Love

......Sean and I waiting for the elevator....

Sean: "Love you, baby."

Me (smiling sweetly): "Love you, too."

Smoochies following by silence and me wondering what is taking the elevator so fucking long, after all there are only four floors!

Then...

Sean (tugging lightly on my shirt sleeve): "Is this a new shirt?"

Me (smiling, thinking a compliment is on the way): "No, actually, it's way old, I just found it in the closet."

Sean smiling; me waiting for expected compliment.

Sean: "Honey, can I be honest with you?"
Me: "Of course!  I want nothing but honesty from you."

Sean: "Even if it makes you mad?"

Me (losing smile and feeling a rise of pique):  "Yes.  Tell me."

Sean (smiling sweetly): "Can you never wear that shirt again.  I hate it."

Me (eyes narrowed, glare in full effect): "Why?"

Sean (petting my arm in a feeble attempt to call the rising tide of annoyance): "The polka dots, you know I hate them."
Me (nodding): "So that means I should wear an article of clothing with polka dots?  That is retarded!  What is your issue with them anyway?"
Sean (one shoulder shrug): "They confuse me."

Me (rolling eyes and replying with as much sarcasm as I can muster, which is quite a lot): "Really?  They confuse you?  Sure, Sean, I won't wear polka dots ever again because they confuse you."

.....elevator dings.....we enter elevator.....

Sean (kissing me on the cheek): "Thanks, my love."

Me (shooting him a disgusted look at his intentional dismisal of my damn awesome sarcasm): "Uh-huh."

Sean: "Love you, honey."

Me: "Whatever."

.........elevator arrives at our floor and I'm out before the door opens all the way, stomping to our door followed by a snickering Sean....

Sean (snicker): "Awww, don't be mad."

Me flipping him the middle finger on both hands.

Sancho Panza

I think that the biggest problem I have with getting older is that there are just too many years to look back on. Too many losses to keep track of, too few victories to celebrate. Lately I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about an old friend of mine from way way back. Joel. One of the most uncomplicated people I’ve ever known or may ever know. I can say with all honesty that he was a friend who touched me in a profound way, effectively changing the course of my life. That’s a big deal, right? I thought so, and think so. In my more whimsical flights of thought, I imagine that he was sent to me for just that purpose, plunked right down in the middle of my misery to shine the spotlight in a different direction, illuminating a new focus for me. Like I said; whimsical. In fact Joel entered my life through a series of random incidences, we traveled in concentric circles, smiling as we passed each other on the journeys of our lives until one day our circles became one. And then there were two; Joel and Baby (a ridiculous nickname given to me by some unsavory characters that stuck to me like liquid latex). Our friendship became a sanctuary for me; I could unravel myself in his arms, be safe and free of the constant fear that dogged my every waking moment during that time in my life.

Being with Joel was like stepping through the looking glass into a strange new world, the man was a total original, and the things he would say or do were as unpredictable as springtime weather in Utah, and I absorbed him like a sponge. So many ‘friends’ were around us at all times, the apartment he lived in was never empty, his roommate constantly had people over at all hours of the day and night so Joel and I would ‘escape’ to his Cali King behind a locked door and become engrossed in each other. We would talk for hours, telling each other everything and I do mean everything. I knew that his biggest dream in life was to have a little girl and that he wanted to name her Sophia, that he had an abiding love of mountain biking and that his bong was never beyond reach. We also listened to music, watched discovery channel or just lay entwined together. Looking back on it, I find it amusing how threatened others were by our relationship, we were under constant attack. When I wasn’t with him (which wasn’t very often) my ‘friends’ would tell him how wrong I was for him, that I was too young, that someone else would be a much better match for him. When they spoke to me, they would tell me that Joel thought I was just a joke, and he was telling everyone that he was just using me for sex and he was laughing behind my back. Yet, in the miasma of insecurities and self esteem issues that plagued my life, then now and forever, I never once believed it. I knew every bit of my strange, sometimes incomprehensible friend. Also, we were never lovers, or ever even kissed. We were just two people seeking solace in each other during a time of desperate need. It was a beautiful, unique and blissfully uncomplicated relationship and its absence in my life has left a void that can never be filled.


We are no longer friends, and as we drifted apart I mourned the loss but wasn’t surprised by it. Like every difficult time in a life, it passes, you’ve learned the lessons that needed learning and you move on and unfortunately not everyone moves in the same direction. Joel ended up married to a woman I know nothing about other then she had fake boobs, something that Joel found bothersome but not something he couldn’t overcome to be with her no matter what I may have hoped for in my black little heart. I’ll admit that despite his pleading with me, I could not force myself to be interested in knowing her. I wanted Joel to be happy, and if marriage to her made him happy then so be it, but I just couldn’t watch. I don’t know that she was a bad person or a good person for that matter, all I knew is that Joel’s soul no longer belonged to me and their marriage made that a bitter, but irrifutable fact. It makes no sense, but I was jealous of her, not because I wanted to marry Joel, or was in love with him but because I knew that she would not be ok with my friendship with him, no woman would be ok with their husband having such a deep connection with another woman, and that eventually he would have to choose and that he could not chose me over his wife. So I slipped away from him, leaving him to his much deserved happiness while I tried to find myself. A couple of years ago he called me out of the blue to tell me that he and his wife had adopted a little girl and that they had named her Sophia, which made me smile through my tears. I hope he’s still happy and that his family is thriving. Oh and that he still has the gigantic purple bong that always made my head explode.

As I read back on all I just wrote, I know exactly what he would say: “You’re such a drama queen, Baby.”

The distant echo of his voice in my head makes me smile.

Quantico Baby

I've often wondered how I would react if I came across a decomposing body....would I puke, scream, piss myself?  I think that this is why I've always had a fascintion with law enforcement.  Not the local skids but the big boys, the motherfucking FBI.  I think I would look slick in a tailored suit and practical shoes.  Or maybe not, my hips and thighs make nice clothes bulge in awkward areas and I wouldn't even know where to purchase practical shoes, but I digress.  I want to roll up on an unsuspecting perp accused of killing his entire family on the orders of Bael, and flash a badge while boldly displaying my I'm-better-than-you-dirtbag attitude, and slap some pink handcuffs on his blood splattered writs after subduing him with the Vulcan death grip.  Then after the bad dude is locked behind bars, waiting on his court appointed lawyer, I would be at the local feebie hangout getting shitfaced on free beer and joking about my partner boning down some skanky barfly in a filthy stall in the women's restroom.  Sweet action, no?  Man, I really want to do that.  Well, that or captain a starship...

Science

Sean and me watching Life on Discovery Channel...

Sean: Did you hear that?
Me: What?
Sean: What Oprah said.
Me: Um, she's the narrator so she's saying lots of things.
Sean: I'm talking about how she said "ecosystem".
Me: I didn't notice anything strange.

Silence.....until....

Sean: There! She said it again!
Me (exasperated): What?!
Sean (irritated at my lack of comprehension, his fingers stabbing the rewind button on the DVR remote): "Ecosystem"!
Me (now also irritated): Stop rewinding!  It will take us all night to watch this one hour episode and I'm sure she'll say it again.
Sean (determined): Wait.  Now listen....

                    Oprah: ....blah blah....ecosystem....blah blah.....

Me: So?
Sean: Did you hear that?
Me (about to punch a man): Obviously I did not hear what you heard so break it down for me, K?
Sean (huffing): She says "ECHO-system".
Me: Huh?
Sean: "ECHO-system" instead of "Eco-system".
Me (kinda paying attention now): Really?  Rewind it.

                   Oprah: ....blah blah....ECHO-system....blah blah....

Me (lightbulb flickering): Oooohhhhh.
Sean (triumphant): Annoying isn't it?
Me (feeling the Oprah hate welling): Yeah...
Silence as we watch more Life, then....

                      Oprah...blah blah.......ECHO-system....blah blah....
                 
More time goes by..... 

                      Oprah....blah blah.....ECHO-system....blah blah....

Me (vein pulsing in forhead): Oh my gods!  That is bugging the fuck out of me!
Sean (eyes glued to the TV, nodding distractedly): Uh-huh.
Me (glaring at Sean): Why did you have to point that out?  Now I can't stop hearing it!
Sean (eyes still riveted to the desert Chameleon, a smug little smile on his face):  I know.
Me (resigned): I hate you.
Sean: I know.
Me: Just kidding, I'm only annoyed with you.
Sean (still watching the TV): I know.

The Purest Form

Last night we were watching a television show, and on this show, one of the characters was pregnant, and she and the father were sitting in a hospital room, waiting anxiously for the doctor to tell them that their baby was doing well.  Only the doctor didn't, she told them that she wasn't able to locate a heartbeat on the ultrasound.  We turned to each other, thinking that the image on the screen was a mirror of our own expereience not that long ago.  Last summer, Sean and I experienced a miscarriage.  I can speak for both of us and say that it was one of the most devestating experiences of our lives, an emotional and physical pain I would not wish on anyone.  We were told repeatedly, and by many, that this was "common", it was natures "quality control", that we had done absolutely nothing wrong, and I know that they are right.  I've taken anatomy and biology, I understand what an intricate process it is when chromosomes and DNA are winding themselves together to create life, and that there are so many things that can go wrong.  I know that it wasn't a baby, it was an embryo at the beginning stages of growth that just stopped growing because something didn't connect in the appropriate sequence.  I know it, but I didn't feel it.  To us this was our baby and our baby had died and we were bereft and left to find a way to move on.  For the longest time, I hid away from everyone, I didn't want to talk to anyone, see them, or even leave my house.  I just felt like I had failed.  I had failed my baby, Sean, my family and I couldn't face that.  No matter how many ways I knew that this was not my fault, I just couldn't accept it, could not get over it.  And I never did.  Get over it, I mean.  I probably never will, but fortunately, or unfortunately, however you want to look at it, times flows on and before you know it, you've arrived at the near future and you realize that despite the fact that you think about it every day, feel the loss every moment, you've survived and managed to be just fine.  There are a lot of reasons for this, we hugged each other every moment we could, and sobbed ourselves into dehydration.  We also got a lot of support from family and friends, once I allowed them to peirce my greif bubble. 

And of course, Artisan.  The sweetest little puppy that entered our lives just a little over a month after our personal tragedy.  Suddenly we had a differently focus.  It wasn't our baby but he was a baby nonetheless and he needed us.  Right or wrong, we poured all the love we had held inside for our baby, onto his curly little head and never looked back.  Now at nine and a half months old, he's...unique to say the least.  I'm fairly certain he doesn't even know he's a dog, but why would he, we treated him like our baby.  He saved us when we needed it most, made us laugh and melted our hearts with his teddy bear eyes that looked at us so adoringly.  There isn't a person in our lives who doesn't give us a rash of shit over the fact that he's spoiled and needy, telling us we shouldn't carry him so much or freak out and rush him to the vet every time he makes a weird noise, and maybe they are right but this is how it is.  Artisan is smart, obediant (for the most part), loving and quirky.  I know he's not my actual child but I don't see the harm in loving him the way we do, and in fact its the least we can do for all he's done and continues to do for us.  Artisan was our personal savior and for that, he deserves nothing less in return.

Liberty Mutual

Anyone who knows me, knows that I have little use for most people, and those who know me even better than that, know that under the crusty don’t give a shit/hate everyone layer of my personality, lives a former bright eyed optimist who mourns over the blight that is “The Human Condition”. Now every moment of the day, and I’m sure I’m not alone in this, I am confronted with a multitude of reasons to place a check under the “Humanity is Vile” column in my book (it’s not an actual book, just the irrational, disjointed narrative that I weave in my head in honor of the world as seen through the eyes of a heartbroken cynic). So how do I define “Vile” you ask? Or maybe you don’t ask but this is my blog so I’m going to tell you anyway. Let’s review Webster’s definition:


1 a : morally despicable or abhorrent b : physically repulsive : FOUL

2 : of little worth or account : COMMON; also : MEAN

3 : tending to degrade

4 : disgustingly or utterly bad : OBNOXIOUS, CONTEMPTIBLE



Let’s break it down by the numbers:

1A: Tiger Woods/Jesse James: do I need to elaborate? Didn’t think so.

1B: Larry Flint: Although he fits into the 1A definition, I put him here, because looking at this man makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up and the gorge rise in my throat. McNasty.

2: Strangers who try to take a piss on my dumpster and then call me a fucking bitch for calling them out on it: Hey, assholes, this is my house, take a piss on your own dumpster if you feel the need to unleash your tiny penis in the open air.

3: Political Offices: Really, my blog is not exclusively about politics, I’m not smarty pants enough for that, but I think you would be hard pressed to find a person on American soil who isn’t thoroughly disenchanted and highly disgusted at how degraded and yes, vile the politicians have made the positions that they hold in government.

4: The “Others”: The multitudes of meat bags walking this world without a thought or care for anyone but themselves. They lack the simplest understanding of what it means to live in a community, and the most basic respect for the people around them, including those they profess to care about. At some point in the history of Man, manners have become antiquated and obsolete, instead of a social necessity that should be ingrained on a human being from the moment it takes breath. No longer, do the majority seek to lend a helping hand to a neighbor, hold the door open for someone who has their hands full, or even say good morning when passing one another in the parking lot.

These seem like very minor acts, right? Nothing to be all pissed off about but think about this; none of the above mentioned actions would take something away from the individual performing them, can we agree on that? It takes less than 5 seconds to hold the gas station door open for a pregnant woman, help your neighbor take ten bags of groceries to their third floor condo (especially when you also live on the 3rd floor), or offer a benign smile in greeting to a stranger who leaves for work at the same time as you and parks their car next to yours.

Then consider how the lack of these simple societal niceties can turn from simply ignorant to truly malevolent. That pregnant woman who has worked an eight hour day and has to haul ten bags of groceries to the third floor condo, while the fetus is sitting on her bladder and kicking her ribs, will survive without assistance but what about someone else? What about the man in a wheelchair sitting at a bus stop, getting robbed of his meager belongings by a few punks with too much time on their hands and weak parental influences? Do we ignore him, drive by and pretend that his plight does not impact our lives? (BTW, this actually happened to my neighbor. His wallet, along with a bag of groceries he had where ripped away from him by a couple of future parolees, and insult to injury, they even stole the UofU flag from him wheelchair and tossed it in a dumpster.)

I guess my rambling point is this: We all struggle with the day to day of survival. Sometimes our lives seem like they couldn’t be any more blissful and sometimes, our lives feel like one cataclysmic disaster after another. There are times when it takes everything we have to simply get out of bed in the morning so it’s no wonder we can get caught up in our own personal drama. But consider how things can change from moment to moment. If you are having a wicked bitch of a day and you are travelling home at rush hour on a packed freeway and need to make a lane change, what would you hope would happen? If traffic speeds up to keep you out, the wicked bitch of a day gets exponentially worse, but if someone holds back for a single car length to let you in so you don’t miss your exit, maybe the tension in your neck might loosen up a fraction. Then consider yourself as the person who has to power to let another driver into your lane or speed up.

Ever seen the Liberty Mutual commercial? The one where a person witnesses a good deed and then they end up performing a good deed which is witnessed by someone else and so on? It seems as science fiction as Star Trek but it always chokes me up.

I know I sound full of my own bullshit, and maybe you are hoping I get hoisted on my own petard but all I am is a person who wants to ignore others in the world and let them get their own doors but grudgingly accept that my mama taught be better than that.