Thursday, September 24, 2009

I Want to Fly and Never Come Down

Some of us are lucky to have tough love friends. I actually have a two and they also happen to be married to each other.

When Dru's husband called a month ago telling me that they bought my airline ticket and I had to go to Florida with them I am sure my outside friends would think I have incredibly nice friends. While it is true they are incredibly nice and they are very good friends, the ulterior motive was to get me away from what they knew was brewing in to a bad situation.

I have spent the past two years of my life numb. I have had my moments of crying and laughing and a steady hum of some form of contentment but when it came to the romance side of life~nothing.

Recently, I have found myself spiraling right back in to that pattern. The sad part is that when this happens, I am too numb to see it. Most of my friends buy my crap lines of inner peace and I am happy. Dru, and her husband, are not those friends.

"You know this will only come back to bite you down the line." This statement was from Dru's husband. I was teetering on the edge of being involved with the wrong person. I knew he was right. If a man is telling you that another man is bad news, you know they are right. When it comes to getting some, most men will stick together. Dru's husband is by no means sappy or sentimental but he is honest. I had that moment of "he is just not that in to you" from a dude. *sigh*
So, the real reason for my trip was to get me out of Dodge. Just like years ago when I would hit the road with the horses, the Tough Love Team knew that the best way to see what a relationship is~ or isn't~ is to remove me physically from the scene of the crime. That is good friendship.
It is strange when you have been alone for so long. You eventually become so used to it you no longer know what a real relationship feels like.
It seems it happens every time. I go for long periods of solitude to being overwhelmed by too much romantic male company. The thing is, it has never has worked for me. For the life of me, I cannot juggle. I am the circus freak who can only juggle one ball. I don't know if it's because I work so much, have too many friends I already socialize with, or maybe my psyche hates sharing, but I could never master dating several men at once.

Dru called me early on the morning of the 13th. The retirement farm for horses, where I worked for several years back in the 90s, had a barn burn down to the ground. "Quick, put on channel 6, Tommy* is being interviewed."

There he was. It had been at least six years since I last saw him. Shoe Man had continued to work as a farrier at the farm even after I left. One of the many strange twists of my life that would leave friends baffled as to how and why I live life the way I do. Tommy and I had kept in sporadic touch after I left the farm. Like a lot of old relationships, it eventually faded away without any fanfare.
Occasionally, Shoe would tell me that Tommy asked for me and said hello.

It was one of the highest points in my life when I took that job. I was the first female barn manager in the one hundred and twenty year history of the farm. I was proud that I came in to a male dominated facility and could keep up with the men in the physical aspect of running a farm with 108 horses. What I didn't count on was being the only female would put me in that position of male attention. Most of it came from a very married Tommy.

It started out innocent enough. We all drank a lot at the farm. After long hours of farm work, we would end the day by sitting in lawn chairs overlooking the pastures, drinking beers and making each other laugh. There were four of us. Three men and myself. It was Tommy who I hit it off with the most. I guess I shouldn't of been surprised when he finally in a drunken stupor proclaimed love. I knew he was a man who would never leave his kids. I chose to walk away from starting a relationship with a married man. We both ignored his drunk confession and continued to stay friends and coworkers.

During this time I was just beginning to date Shoe Man. He was a friend of a friend. I can't say I was head over heels with him, but he was a nice guy who was always there for me. Even Tommy admitted that he would be a good guy for me. So, what did I do? I found myself sucked in to a wild affair with another guy at the farm. This man was also Tommy's best friend since high school. He was supposedly separated from his wife and followed me around like a lovesick puppy. I have no idea what the hell I was thinking getting involved with this guy. Hindsight, I think it was my way of saying to Tommy, "this is what could happen if you left your wife."

The only thing I achieved was breaking up their friendship and having this guy's teenage daughter call me on the phone demanding to know if I was sleeping with her father? Apparently, he was not separated and his wife after all. Tommy was livid. He had known his friend was playing me. He struggled with who his loyalty was to. It turned out to be to me. This turned in to weeks of drunken phone calls and further proclamations of love. He would leave his wife, he would be there for me...blahblahblah. In no time, all of the hard work and respect I achieved at the farm, went down the drain. I handed in my resignation, told Tommy and the other man I wanted nothing romantic from either of them and had Shoe Man move in with me. We were together for seven years. Not once in those seven years, did we ever discuss the triangle that occurred at the farm that he, himself, was still working at.
"Tommy says hello," Shoe would say.
"That's nice, tell him hello back for me," I would respond. Shoe was a good guy that way.

I was quite shocked when three years ago, while I was with Prick, that Tommy called me 11:00 at night in a drunken stupor. "I left her and I have never, ever, stopped loving you." Crap. Why do men do this??? It had been ten years by that point! Needless to say, Prick, did not take this phone call too well. I had to endure the last few months of our relationship with him tormenting me with a barrage of questions of who Tommy was?

As I watched the news, I picked up the phone and dialed Tommy's office. Ten years later I knew the number off the top of my head. His machine came on and I left a message.
"You have to burn down a barn to get me to call you? Whassup wi' dat?"

He called me back an hour later.

"Did you get my letters?" he asked. Oh shit. I immediately felt my stomach drop. I actually felt my heart start to pound in anxiety. "When did you send them?" I asked although I knew already when he sent them. "Right after I called you. Ness, I am so sorry I hurt you all these years. I wrote to apologise for calling you drunk. You didn't deserve that. I figured that you hated me when I never heard from you after I sent you the birthday card."
I never got that card along with any letters. It was as if Prick had kicked me again. I knew immediately what had happened. Right after Tommy's first drunk call my mailbox key disappeared. I had a spare one so I used that until after a month that one disappeared. It took me over a week to get a new lock and key for my mailbox. By then Prick was drinking heavily and we were spiraling closer to our demise. It never occurred to me that he was tampering with my mail. Two years later I should not be shocked, right? Yet, here I was, dealing with the fact Prick once again crossed a boundary and fucked with my life and my own decisions.

"I am leaving for Florida on Wednesday," I told Tommy. He had asked if he could see me? He has been single now for three years. "I've been alone since that night I called you. Are you seeing anyone?I still think about you."

It was then I realized that I recognised something in Tommy's voice. It was 11am and he was drunk.

Dru and her husband had been talking to me about a situation I had recently got myself in to with another man.Whatever it was,I know it was not dating. This situation made me actually think about Skinny. Are we dating? He texts and calls me every day. Am I that clueless in dating? Ummmm, yes. I have no clue what the hell I am doing. I have no clue what the hell these men are doing. I knew Dru was correct. I needed to get the hell out of Dodge and get my ass to Florida, far away from all three of them.

"No," I told Tommy, "for now, it is the best thing. I am still very confused from what I have been through and know I am not ready to be dating anyone. I don't think it's a good idea to see you. I just wanted to say hello and see how the horses were doing."

It is better to be lonely, than to be with someone and still feel alone. Being alone is tangible~I can explain that. Being with someone who always makes me feel confused is the worst kind of loneliness.

I spent the next five days in Florida with my Tough Love Team. I was able to see exactly what I was doing. I had somehow recreated the same scenario in my present, with three men from my past. One has a girlfriend, one has a drinking issue and one is a hell of a nice guy that I have zero romantic interest in. But, this time around, I have something I didn't have back then. I have that insight of what bad decisions will do for my future well being.

So, like a baby bird who was kicked out of the nest by it's loving parents, Dru and her husband made me take my first flight and away from those who were clipping my wings. I never want to come down.

*name changed to protect privacy

We Never Change

I want to live life, and never be cruel
I wanna live life, and be good to you

And i wanna fly
I'll never come down
And live my life
And have friends around

We never change do we no, no
We never learn do we
So i wanna live, in a wooden house
I wanna live life, and always be true
I wanna live life, and be good to you

And i wanna fly
But never come down
And live my life
And have friends around

We never change do we
We never learn do we
So i wanna live in a wooden house
And making more friends would be easy

Oh, and i don't have a soul to save
Yes and i sin every single day
We never change do we
We never learn do we

So i want to live in a wooden house
Where making more friends would be easy
I wanna live where the sun comes out


Thursday, September 3, 2009

किम्बा थे व्हाइट लिओन इस थे ओने

I have been blogging since 2005. It is funny to see how prolifically I wrote at Non-stop, almost daily, blog chatter about television and what is going on in the world. I still maintain a couple other blogs elsewhere, but they are strictly equine oriented or less "heavy" like the blogs I write here. I have kept my one guide at but finally walked away from blogging at CNET entirely when Prick's girlfriend started stalking online for him, while he was in jail. It was the proverbial last fucking straw.

I didn't come here to write heavy blogs. I came here to hide from Prick. He had invaded every other blog site that I posted under my original screen name, Kimba. It actually took me a long time to start writing under the name Evanesco. I chose a new name that was a vanishing spell from the Harry Potter series. It seemed to fit what I was feeling when I finally had to leave Kimba behind. Anyway, I did not come here planning to become some champion of domestic violence. Somehow that seems to have happened. My light banter of other blog sites is something that just doesn't carry over here. Judging from my private email following, there are a lot of us out there who have had some heavy shit put upon us. I wish so much I could go back and write as Kimba. Not in the name but in that person.

Recently, I started editing and transferring some of the CNET blogs. The one thing that always stands out so clear is how open to interpretation blogging is. I read comments from my readers and have a giggle. I am glad that I reach them in some way but I am often puzzled that they read in to a blog a completely different emotion than what I feel when I am writing it. Normally, I respond to my readers comments the same way the comments come to me;private email. I have spent the last couple years hiding my online identity so thoroughly that I forget that not everyone sees the hidden responses to my blogs as I see them. So, I feel it is time to address some responses here in a public blog form. There would be too many emails and too many emotions to cover in the past few blogs.
Part of the issue is that I only convey to a reader what is typed. The last two blogs have proven that a slight omitting of details changes what a reader thinks I am feeling or doing.
Example:I Write the Songs
In this blog I speak of Prick's letter. From the numerous responses I received, it became apparent that I somehow led people to believe that this letter was addressed to me,personally. It wasn't. Prick's latest literary ramblings were solely addressed to his probation officer. The reason his probation officer made me aware of the letter writing (there have been more since then) was because they may be used for future court proceedings.He didn't want me to be shocked that there were even letters to be addressed to the court. I appreciated that Prick's PO has chosen to take my feelings in to consideration. More than anyone else, he has shared what is to come in color with the black and white facts that follow legalities. Hence; Kodachrome. Prick's PO gave me something in color. It is where in my Kimba world I would rather be. The shredding and then disposing the black and white printing on a letter was my way of embracing the colors of feeling again. Not sure if that makes sense to a blog reader but I felt I should at least point out that I am not "hung up" on Prick's ramblings or hurt by the PO showing me the letter. My reading and then disposing the letter was actually a way I chose to mourn for Guinevere. The point I was trying to convey was that it was what Prick chooses not to write that angers me. It is no secret what transpired the night he assaulted me. What bothers me is what he doesn't focus on is his actions since the assault. He seems to think he is being persecuted for one night. Reading that letter was proof to me that he will never admit to the extremes he continues to take to get to me. That includes him taking the life of my horse. So,the disposal of the letter was a healing for me. Kodachrome, gives us those nice bright colors.

Second was my recent blog:That's the Way it Oughtta Be

I had a really good laugh when I kept getting emails congratulating me on my new romance. Boy, did that one get misconstrued! Kudos, to my Kiwi friend Julie, who "got" what my puking off of Skinny's deck was probably about. I also give a special shout out to her for actually getting what my inclusion of songs and lyrics are about and how they are tied in to what I am feeling.
Soooo, no romance with Skinny. What I had omitted was the fact that I had recently put a toe in the dating water and found the water was still too cold. Skinny has a girlfriend in another state. He is now at a crossroads of sorts and was bonding with me on the out-of-state dilemma. I thought my own recent dip in the dating pool was no big deal. The fact that this discussion with Skinny made me vomit...well let's have a field day with interpreting that Ness-O-Matic is still struggling in the romance department.
Anyway, my own interpretation of what I wrote is this: Often when we date or marry we lose our connections to ourselves aka friends. I don't know how or why it happens, but often it does. When we lose or pull away from old friends it seems we lose a vital part of what we really are. What ends up happening is an empty or shallow relationship with the partner who makes you lose that connection. It is my theory on why couples like Mich and her husband have made it this far. Mich has stayed true to herself and has retained that part of herself that was before her husband but has included him in with us. Skinny and I have both made that mistake. We tried to be different people for someone and it back-fired. My puking off his deck was a our life coming back around full circle. His fancy house, my fabulous hair that he grumbled about, one thing was the same... he held back my hair and let me puke just like we did in our friendship years ago. So, am in love with Skinny? Of course. Just as I was when we were 15. He is one of my oldest and dearest friends who has helped me reconnect with our original selves. Romance? If hanging out and drinking beer until I puke is wonder I suck at dating. So, as much as I love Skinny, I am not in love with Skinny. Nice try though, folks. It would be a much neater ending than the one I seem to be working on that made me puke.

Finally, Romeo has continued to recover. We have had some further set backs but plain and simple...he is old. It is something we are going to have to face and this year seems to be making that fact seem closer. Thank you so much for all of the prayers and White Light you have sent my way. It does mean a lot.

Well, I think that is it for blog response. Being a Gemini, I will probably reinterpret everything differently tomorrow. Maybe you, my readers, see what I can't. Dunno. Maybe, I just wander with words the same way I do after midnight when the Sandman abandons me. I am just grateful for your emails and support over the years. Even if it comes across in a different way than what I intended, if it helps someone else embrace the Light, I can sleep at night knowing that.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

That's the Way it Oughtta Be

"So, dude. Whassup w' da hair?"

This question was posed to me on Sunday afternoon from my long time friend,Skinny.He was trying to hold back my hair and made the mistake of doing so from the scalp.

"They are extensions..." I mumbled, as I proceeded to hurl again over his deck.

"I don't like them," was all he muttered back and he patiently held the fake hair out of vomits way.

I know how to really make an impression with my friends. Somehow six years had gone by and Skinny's McMansion was ignored by his friends. It's not that we didn't like his wife. She always seemed friendly to least to our face. It just seemed as their ten year marriage went on, his wife became a less frequent visitor to our events and Skinny was usually stag. Their lives became so seperate that he took to asking me to go to events with him such as friends weddings or Christmas parties. The sad part? I was also in the same kind of relationship.

Now that he has been divorced for a year, Skinny was finally refurnishing his huge empty house. It is one of those cookie-cutter, mini mansions that seem to be the rage in this part of PA. Cathedral ceilings and rooms galore. I pictured myself in my midnight wanderings in my two bedroom townhouse with no basement. I could wander here for days.

This was actually one of the places I hid out when Prick was still running around free. Skinny and I would sit in his basement. He would watch old Flyers videos and I sat staring in to space, numb from what was happening in my real world. We would reminisce about our youth. We have known each other since we were 15 years old. Somehow the question of; how the hell did we get here? never came up. At least, until Sunday.

"Ness-O-matic, you are a mess-O-matic." Spoken like a true Philly dude. We all have nicknames for each other. Skinny was skinny once. Now it is like calling a bald guy Curly. Skinny takes the true Rocky Balboa Philly-speak to it's highest art form. It is incredibly rare to have any kind of "serious" talk about anything with Skinny. When I stayed in his McMansion, hiding from Prick, I stood at the landing of his stairwell. It looked in to his family room that had cathedral ceilings. I sang the opening line of Evita, "don't cry for me Argentina..." and he snarfed his beer through his nose. For 28 years we have made each other laugh.

It's not the first time I hurled in front of Skinny. Hell, it's not the first time I hurled on the poor guy or vice versa. He went to the same college as my best friend. We went through clubbing and beach houses together for years. Drinking was a huge part of our friendship. I rarely drink anymore. Skinny is not skinny mainly due to a good beer gut on him. I should of known better when Mich, her husband and I went to visit him in his big empty house on that Sunday. He wanted to show off the new dining room set he bought.

It started like any other visit. I don't know why the beer tasted better than usual. Skinny has a bar with a tap. Maybe it was the frosted mug. Maybe I really deep down wanted to get plastered on three beers. Maybe the laughter was too much. Who knows? All I remember was one minute being fine and then the next moment I was outside with Skinny standing over me, holding back my fake hair puking off his beautifully stained deck on his perfectly manicured lawn.

"How the hell did we get here?" I asked him. We grew up outside of Philly. We went to school, we worked, we got married, we moved all over the place and here we were. He was alone in his big house and I was puking off his deck. For once there was no jokes coming from either one of us. After he asked me how my extensions came out he carefully helped me pluck each weft from my head and threw them on his picnic table.

"Ness-O. We keep being too nice to the wrong people." I leaned over and threw up a third time and started to cry.It was a lot easier for him to hold my real hair back.

"I just thought it would be different by now," was what I said as he crushed me in a hug.

"It is different," he replied. "We both know that it is better to be alone than to be alone with someone who makes us feel lonely even when they are sitting right there."

No matter how sick or drunk I was, I knew Skinny just made a profound statement that nailed it right on the head.

I spent most of the day yesterday, green at the gills. I did ride Veritas in the morning. He was kind enough to not bounce me around too bad.

At 5:00pm Skinny sent me a text:

"Nessi,U need to wrk on building more beer muscle. Training begins @ Camp SkinMan. K/p lttng UR real hair dwn."

I had a good giggle and ran my fingers through my real hair. My head still hurt too much for fake hair.

Song of the day:
That's the Way~Led Zeppelin

I don't know how I'm gonna tell you, I can't play with you no more,
I don't know how I'm gonna do what mama told me, My friend, the boy next door.
I can't believe what people saying, You're gonna let your hair hang down,
I'm satisfied to sit here working all day long, You're in the darker side of town.

And when I'm out I see you walking, Why don't your eyes see me,
Could it be you've found another game to play, What did mama say to me.

*That's The Way, Oh, That's The Way it ought to be,
Yeah, yeah, mama say That's The Way it ought to stay.

And yesterday I saw you standing by the river,
And weren't those tears that filled your eyes,
And all the fish that lay in dirty water dying,
Had they got you hypnotized?

And yesterday I saw you kissing tiny flowers,
But all that lives is born to die.
And so I say to you that nothing really matters,
And all you do is stand and cry.

I don't know what to say about it,
When all you ears have turned away,
But now's the time to look and look again at what you see,
Is that the way it ought to stay?

That's the way... That's the way it oughtta be
Oh don't you know now, Mama said.. that's the way it's gonna stay, yeah.