Saturday, February 16, 2002
amy equals herpes
Oh, man.
No sooner do I get myself all worked up about this gender identity thing than Ye Olde Lefte Fielde springs up out of the sludge of my past and bites me in the proverbial ass.
Some of you know that I was married before. Badly. To a man that treated me like shit when he left, yaddayaddayadda. I haven't thought about him, or the sleazeball he left me for, in probably six months, since I was filing some random papers and filed the divorce papers in my fireproof lockbox. (Didn't want there to be ANY ambiguity about whether or not I was free of that particular 230-pound hemhorroid and his doppleganger bimbo.) And before that, it was probably another six months, since packing up some stuff to move to the new house with H.
We're talking a near non-entity with me.
Not always so. Those of you who read Atropine from the beginning (my old journal, for any of you newcomers) know that I was not always so nonchalant about this whole clusterfucked situation. I -actively- hated that girl, and everything her immoral, adulterous little life stood for. I wanted her dead from some weird venereal disease. But not before passing it to my lovely ex-husband first.
Needless to say, we've come a long way, baybeee.
Anyway. Tonight, I'm sitting here trying to catch up on some work email, since I've been a great big giant mucous-filled slacker this week, and despite my illness-as-excuse, I thought I'd use this time while Ben's sleeping to get some of this done. (I have no idea where the energy comes from. It just comes. At random times. I try to stop it, but it just flows, y'know?)
In my inbox, an email from someone who, presumably, knows Amy from her married-man-fucking days, and felt it necessary to tell me that he empathizes, and that she's cheating on her current husband. (That would be my ex.)
So now I'm in this black bile spitting, insides twisted into knots, passively wishing crabs in her armpits phase again. Out of the blue. I thought all of this was -gone-. And worse, why should I care if she's giving my ex exactly what I warned him he'd get? Infidelity doesn't seem to be a problem with either of them, and really, it has no bearing on my life as it stands right now, anyway. Good -lord-.....I can barely remember accurately what his -face- looked like anymore, and I've chalked the whole thing up to being young and stupid (the married thing), not to mention pretty much forgiven him for being an asshole (since he was also young and stupid). Where is this coming from?
I think when I was handing out forgiveness, earned or not, I skipped -her-. I mean, duh. She's a pretty reprehensible human being. But I've got much bigger fish to fry these days -- I've got this huge career teetering by a thread, I'm two inches away from being an author in print, and there's this guy downstairs with a stuffy nose that I gave him that loves me madly and vice versa. And on the hate scale, there's a Republican in the white house, for gods' sakes. As if that wouldn't give me enough to obsess about. I don't have the time or energy to waste on this kind of petty shit anymore.
But of course, it's what I'm thinking about. It's like being blindsided with your past when you're least expecting it.
Maybe it's time to resolve the unresolved and just let it be.
trying to be more Zen,
----e
Posted by beth @ 10:41 PM PST [Link]
gendertoys
Gender Toys
Ever since I did some preliminary looking-into on women's studies, I've had this big ol' quandary with gender. I mean, okay. So there are technically two sexes, but is a gender -identity- necessarily sex-related?
So many shades of grey. It shouldn't matter. But of course, it does. To someone. So these little quizzes were really interesting to me.
----e
who, incidentally,
scored an 8 on that
gender aptitude thing,
which means she's a
gender freak or something.
Posted by beth @ 10:15 PM PST [Link]
just kill me
I'm sick. Not just kind of sick, like I was on Monday, but lay-down-and-die, I-wish-I-would-get-hit-by-a-random-out-of-control-bus, please-god-end-the-misery sick.
Ben's got it, too. I think it's mutant Anthrax.
Actually, I'm feeling a little bit more human today than I did yesterday. On Wednesday, I was pretty much dead -- 103-degree fever, dripping head, on lots of nyquil and still not able to breathe -- so in contrast, I feel downright chipper today. My head is still four thousand pounds, but at least I'm not coughing up blood anymore.
Just wanted to let you all know I hadn't abandoned this thing for greener pastures. I'm just half-dead.
---e
Posted by beth @ 08:45 AM PST [Link]
Monday, February 11, 2002
comments
I'm finally answering all my comments. There's some big bug up my butt today about wanting to clear out all my old responsibilities. (I see email and comments as responsibilities -- just not as important as, say, Art. :>)
That, and I'm finishing Ben's valentine's day present, which, I found out the next day, I actually already showed him part of. (I was toasted last Thursday night and I guess I actually whipped it out and showed him the cover already. Sigh.) :)
---e
Posted by beth @ 06:59 AM PST [Link]
mountains
I loved the little town where Ben's dad used to live. Community, and this great scenery -- it was like my hometown only -pretty-.
Oh, and I seem to have come home with a cold, dammit. My chest's all funny and I'm -so- tired. I think it was the stress of the drive home -- snowing cats and dogs the whole way, especially over the pass. I thought we were gonna die. I'm sure by the time this virus plays out, I'm going to wish I had.
We might be house-sitting for B's parents for the next ten days. I don't mind house-sitting (his parents' house is amazing, and has really great showers that never run out of hot water, which'll be nice.), but if I'm sick, I'm going to be hating life. At least there's cable.
I found out what inner nationality I have, thanks to one of those online quizzes that I'm just In Love With.
Heh. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt, and got the hell outta Jersey.
I need some orange juice.
Posted by beth @ 06:46 AM PST [Link]
