Angle of Vision

Hold my feelings close

Just a quick note to let you know I'm all right, or I should say hanging on by my teeth. With all that has happened this last year, especially after my sister's death, I seem to have sunk into a pretty deep depression.

Most day's I wish I could trade places with my sister, I wish I had died. My grief over losing her is still so physical, so devastating mentally I just cry and cry and cry.

I'm working my way back, each day I get up one more time. I'm old enough to know it will get better but right now, these last few weeks, the pain flares up without notice.

My family is doing well; my son's health is improving every day.

No cheer, no sympathy, no empathy, I just want to hold my feelings close and work through them.

Even feeling this way I do find myself pondering a situation. Boss does a lot on international business and many times I invite people from other countries into my home. Usually do some research about their countries so I can at least appear somewhat educated.

But when Boss said Uganda and after I did the research I found a little known fact and told Boss not only no, but HELL NO!

Tell you all about the controversy Monday.

Just wanted to give you a little something to chew over for the weekend. Makes you wonder what it could be doesn't it? Well, let me tell you right now what I found out pretty much left me stunned and speechless. Here's a hint, it has nothing to do with skin color or politics.

Any phone calls today

I woke up at 2AM again feeling so sad, so depressed, so angry. At least now I am identifying the feelings, able to sort them, and am able to work through them.

Let me tell you it ain’t easy, not easy at all.

I go into the spare room where I have a comfort zone made for myself. The bed is made with the softest of sheets, a lovely quilt, and nice cushy pillows with just the right amount of firmness. I turn on the soft light next to the bed, pick up a book and start to read until I feel sleepy again, then off goes the light and I see if I can go back to sleep.

Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, and this morning it didn’t work unfortunately.

But I kept reading until about 4AM, made my coffee and got busy with my day.

I miss my sister so much that it really is a physical pain. My emotions are being tightly held mostly because life goes on and it really isn’t fair to take my mental anguish out on anybody else.

Life does go on, Man-child has another check up in the works and by Thursday we find out what all the results will be.

Big Guy and I avoid the subject. I guess most people would think we would talk about it, but with as many years as we’ve been married we know how each other feels and what kind of conversation we can handle.

It will go something like this:

Big Guy: Any phone calls today?

Me: None of any importance.

That’s it, that’s all we say to each other on the subject. I’m letting him know nothing has been come in yet and letting him know we still have to hold firm, stay strong, that our hardest hour as parents or the most joyful hour has yet to be decided.

I stomp on my fear like it’s a cockroach, kill it, kill it, and kill it, over and over again. What option do I have? None, zip, nada.

My brother thinks I don’t know that he’s trying to distract me. I know it and I appreciate it and quite frankly it is distracting and I’m letting him do his best, because even though I know what he’s doing, it’s working. I do think about him and women and try to come up with solutions and I bless him for every moment that he has distracted me.

Possibilities in life

I read quite a lot of science fiction, the more futuristic the better.

What surprises me is that is so many of the people who get to know me are surprised by me reading sci fi.

When I rehash the past, I find great comfort and joy with a sorrow mixed in, remembering my family, friends, how we lived. Looking back, it was simply amazing that I got to experience all that I did.

Just a little slice of my life was each moment, each memory, to make the present. Seems like every time I turn around I’m using what I learned to get through the present, the here and now.

Right here, right now, is my time; I don’t live in the past. I learn from the past, find comfort from it, rehash it, but no way can I relive it, so I take what I need from it and move on to the present.

Science fiction lets me ponder what the future could and might hold. Lets my imagination run wild with the possibilities of what the future could hold. Let’s me think about what my descendents life may be like.

When I ponder politics, vote in elections, vote either for or against bonds, I’m thinking of the future. How my little old vote, the vote of my friends, are shaping the future for our descendents.

I can’t get more futuristic than that.

Science fiction lets me believe in the possibilities in life.

I like that and all that “hot action” too. Heh.

Birds of a feather

My sister was a buffer between my brother and myself. Both of them would enjoy many conversations about the opposite sex. My sister was a man hater and brother a woman hater. How much better can it get to put the both of them together?

Now that she’s gone, my brother is suffering withdrawal from his hate talk and is trying it with me. Frankly I don’t stand up to it well at all. Bad me.

In fact, I find it both painful and tedious to listen to my brother spew. Brother is quite a bit more verbal and expressive in his language, outclasses me by a mile. Brother won all kinds of awards for his debating when in school. That skill has helped him through the years in his personal life, and business, to mow down anybody who thinks differently by just using his skills at speech.

This weekend I woke up with what I think anyways is a brilliant idea, well maybe, a brilliant idea.

I have known my beautiful GalPal (the one who is bitter on the inside) who lives in another state for decades now.

But guess what? My brother has never met her, he has heard me talk about her but he has never met her.

Here is my idea, why don’t I introduce them?

I’m thinking they would probably get along great.

A) She talks badly about men, he talks badly about women.
B) Both can suck the joy out of a room faster than anyone else I know.
C) Both of them are very, very, smart.
D) Both of them are good looking (except for my brothers big butt).
E) Both of them are loyal, trustworthy, people otherwise.
F) Both have the redeeming quality’s of the above (E) and both talented raconteurs

So this is my game plan, I’m going to think it over for a few days, see if I can find fault with it.

After that, if it still sounds good, I’ll arrange a meet between the two somehow.

Who knows, birds of a feather fly (or is it flock) together?

The man himself is a slut

Whatever you’ve read in other places hold nothing to what my brother can come up with about women.

Brother has had only one long-term relationship, it lasted 9 years, in his miserable life. He made bad choices and then blames it on the women.

Women are cunts, bitches, whores, sluts, pigs, good for nothing but pussy, whatever name you can come up with my brother can best you on it.

My brother’s a pig, a friggin pig. Wallowed in dirt, partied, hung out with trash, whored around, and he doesn’t identify himself as trash, as one of these he considers trashy people. I mean after all he’s educated, a lawyer, worked hard all his life, so what the hell do I mean when I tell him he’s nothing but a pig!

The man himself is a slut, has whored around, slept with almost anyone that would spread her legs for him, then he gets his back up with I tell him he’s the one with the problem.

I live to irritate that miserable SOB. It’s truly one of the joys of my life, truly a great joy.

Brother hates it when I give pithy sayings, like; lie down with dogs, get up with fleas, you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. I mean the man hears me say this but truly, he doesn’t understand what I’m saying.

So I make sure to come up with one every time we talk.

I even shot him years ago and yeah, I’ll write the story soon, I promise.

The pig of a brother of mine so gets on my nerves. Damn I love him, he is so smart but so damn dumb at the same time.

I ask him, “So you think I’m a whore, a cunt?”

“No, of course not” he says, “I’m not talking about you”

Think about that for a minute, now that my sister is dead, I am the only woman in this world he doesn't think is a slut! Is that not sad or what?

I feel sorry for good women who come into his life, because I believe, no, I take that back, I know ahead of time, he’ll screw it up.

Brother thinks their cunts and sluts ahead of time, he doesn't say it but he thinks it. So what chance would a good woman have with him thinking like that?

The smart ones run for their lives, lucky to escape that bullet. Let me tell you any woman he tangles with for any length of time is sorry she ever met up with the miserable pig.

I have so got to leave and get to a meeting; it’s just that I get so irritated with him, so I had to write about it.

I have got to go, I could go on and on but maybe I’ve dumped enough of this trash to have a productive day.

Oh and excuse the language, but that is how he talks a lot of the time about women, I'm just repeating what he says. I think it's sad, no, I think it's pathetic.

We are one screwed up brother and sister

Here is the end of a phone call with my brother.

Me: You really are a miserable son of a bit*h, aren’t you?

Bro: I’m not miserable.

Me: Assho*e, I am so f**king tired of listening to your sh*t about women.

Bro: My appointment is here. Love ya.

Me: Love ya back, sweetie, talk to ya tonight, ok?

Bro: Ok.

End of conversation.

We are one screwed up brother and sister and complete opposites, but I just love my damn brother to death.

Where am I going with this? Beats me

I had lunch with my beautiful, beautiful, GalPal yesterday. I have one other beautiful GalPal who lives in another state. Both of these GalPal’s have a physical beauty that turns heads.

I’ve never thought of comparing the two before, and I shouldn't, but it’s odd how both have an immense amount of physical beauty, but in my eyes, only one is truly beautiful inside and out. Thank God she’s the one who lives closest to me.

The other GalPal physical beauty is drop dead gorgeous on the outside, but to me anyways, has a way to go on the inside. It’s like she didn’t take the trip of life with the right kind of learning or something.

Bitter, unhappy, suck the joy right out of a room and then wonders why, when a man who is taken by her beauty, hangs around for a while and then beats a hasty retreat.

The GalPal who lives close to me, is beautiful not only on the outside but grew on the inside to a luscious beauty. Let me tell you it shines right out her eyes, I’m not kidding. Just to be with her, to feel and absorb a little of the light that GalPal of mine radiates, well, it makes me feel like a million bucks.

Both of these gals are my friends, both I am close to and cherish. Only one can I be with for any length of time.

The bitter, unhappy GalPal has her moments, I can see it and hear it in her voice even, when she shines, the wisdom, the learning, is in there somewhere. It’s almost like a habit to her now to be bitter and unhappy. Almost like it’s some kind of coat she wraps around her when she starts to feel happy inside.

I can read it on her face when I see her, and when we talk on the phone I can hear the bitterness, unhappiness starting to take hold. Seeing her face change, her voice change, it's actually a learning lesson to me. I start to mentally retreat from her, because I can't stand her surety that life is unpleasant, that life makes you turn out this way.

I guess because since my sister died, I’m waging my own battle with bitterness, and anger, unhappiness. Probably is one of the hardest battles I’ve ever had to fight mentally.

It’s like I’m at a road and I have a choice on which way to go, and I keep making turns over and over. One moment bitter, the next wisdom, the next unhappy, the next happy….and on and on.

It’s all about how I choose to live my life, I know that, but just damn, why does it have to be so hard sometimes.

You would think at fifty-three I would find this kind of stuff easier. Instead I feel constantly at war with myself on the direction of my inner thinking, what I want to be on the inside. That really is the most important thinking, the inner stuff, it’s what I have to live with and that is why it’s so important.

Where am I going with this? Beats me, I’m just writing down a few thoughts before I have to leave in a few minutes for a meeting.