arms aloft

i just don't know what to do with myself...

Got a phone call this evening that has shaken me up rather forcefully. I feel the need to write it all out. Since this blog, in effect, is just like talking to myself I shall write it down here.

Ethan's dad called me. And unlike the previous four or five conversations we have had, where I ended the call in a seething ball of rage, this time I feel... I don't know, very very empty. Sad. Unsure of how I should feel or react or even go on at all.

I have spent the last two years flaming mad at him about his lack of job. Lack of ambition. Lack of concern. Angry as hell at the fact that he had seemingly not been affected at all by something that has completely redefined my entire life. That rage has sustained me. Insulated me from the aching pit of sadness that still remains as a result of how our relationship ended. When you can smother that ache with justifiable anger life seems to be able to move forward a little more smoothly. I have kept the fire smoldering inside all this time.

But now this call. I hate myself for even thinking this again, for hoping that anything about our relationship could ever change. But here I am doing that very thing. I want to think that the fact he has a decent job, an apartment in the city, and enough money in the bank to send along some child support that things might be different. I don't know what to think.

I guess in my heart I have this hope that someday he can be a good dad to Ethan. That I would be able to pick up the phone and know he'd be there for Ethan when he needed him. Maybe even take him to the park or the movies. Teach him guitar. Let him stay over on the weekends so I could have a little down time. Normal stuff like that. But to hope is to open myself up to a world of pain. And even worse, open Ethan up to the kind of sadness that this person has caused me.

I don't know what's right. It doesn't seem fair to deny Ethan of his dad, if he is indeed becoming a responsible grown-up. Who am I kidding? Of coure it's not right to do that, not to mention probably illegal, cutting him out like that. However, I know him and I just don't fucking trust him.

I wish I had someone to talk this through with. Everyone else in my life hates him and would probably brain me with a frying pan if I even voiced these thoughts.

I don't know what to think. Or do. Or say. Blah.

And now, a moment in mama/Ethan history.

the scene: driveway, 6 a.m. lovely spring morning. me, strapping Ethan into his car seat. Ethan sitting quietly, bag of cocoa pebbles in hand.

E: "Mama, I don't like Katya anymore."

M: "oh, What happened?"

Ethan looks up, with a scrunched up, disgusted expression on his face.

E: "She doesn't call me Ethan anymore."

M: (with confused look on face) "What does she call you? ET?"

E: (with pure disdain in his voice) "No! She calls me boyfriend, and I don't like it!!"

-end

I can't believe that I had this conversation with my son. He is four years old! It just ain't right. Yikes is he growing up way too fast for my liking. Crazy man, crazy.

Wow, a lot to post about here. I shall present it to you in convenient bullet points for your reading enjoyment (ha)

• Braid is back!!! Can I even begin to tell you how much ass this kicks??? I am so excited about this show. However, I am a big loser with no one to go with. And I'd rather eat broken glass than run into the person I am bound to see there all alone. After two years without a single encounter with him, the last place I am willing to take him on is at this show. I need to find me a date. Hrmmmm...



• last week, as I was heading out to lunch, I spied a coworker sunbathing. In the parking lot. At work. Sprawled out on a beachtowel gazing at a scenic six lane freeway. He's 61, and was *shirtless* at the time of my sighting. Ewww. This is a man who normally walks around the office talking to himself. A man who wears a 'Rush is Right' tshirt on Fridays and feels free to bombard you with his right wing propaganda at will. Pretty much the last guy on the planet you'd imagine doing such a thing. It was rather disconcerting. There must be some sort of odd planetary alignment right now.



• please, I urge you, please DO SOMETHING about what is going on in this country. If I can find time in my day to do it, you should to dammit. Prepare yourself for further ramblings to this effect coming soon. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Aside from Damien's performance being destroyed by circus chimps (see below), I did have an entertaining evening on a personal level.

Apparently I put my pretty face on last night. I was chatted up by not one, but two scruffy guys with thrift store clothes and artfully unkempt hairdos. My favorite! I got a free beer and a guy to hold my spot on the floor while I went to the bathroom. This was a completely unique turn of events for me. I am let out of the house sans Ethan roughly once a month and never go anywhere remotely close to where this type of male would typically reside. It was quite a mood lifter for me to be deemed flirtworthy by two of this particular male sub-species.

I need to go to shows alone more often.

a brief yet complete rundown of last night's show: blatantly obnoxious crowd, understandably upset band.

I have never been at a show with people that acted so disrespectfully towards a performer. And I worked at a bar where absolutely awful Hootie cover bands played. Even they got more respect than Damien Rice got from some of the ijits at the Riv gave him. It was embarassing. People screaming over his vocals. People blah blah blahing at the bar. Clapping at the wrong time. Wooooohhoooooing and whistling. It was like seeing a show in the junior highschool cafeteria.

Gone were the smiles and the little stories told in an Irish accent that charms the pants off of you. Gone was the banter between bandmates that made the last show so entertaining. They stood there, stuck to the floor, heads down, every song uptempo with the vocals turned up high to drown out the noise. It ruined the show. I dreaded the quiet moments in the songs that gave the assholes the opportunity to upset the band further. Halfway through the show, Damien threatened to walk off of the stage. I can't say that I blamed him.

The last time he played here, it was at the Park West. The crowd *sat* on the floor through the first band's set. When Damien took the stage he held everyone's undivided attention. You could hear a pin drop when he took a breath during a song. It was a beautiful performance made even cooler by the fact that the people there acted like human beings rather than circus chimps.

Sorry Damien! Chicago really isn't solely populated by subhuman drunken woohooooers, as it would appear.

Hopefully, the next time he's in town the circus will have moved on to another venue to screw up someone else's performance.

in other, less self pitying and overly dramatic news, I am going to see Damien Rice on Tuesday. Can't wait. The last time he was in town he knocked mine socks off. I am looking forward to that happening again. And I am taking Wednesday off of work too. Rawk. My master plan for that day includes copious amounts of sleep and quality time in the bathtub with a good book. Yum.

I took Ethan to Navy Pier today. Did the ferris wheel thing and the choochoo thing and the ludicrously expensive Build-A-Bear thing. He had a good time. I am glad we went. Another exciting Saturday for my kiddo.

I however, haven't been out of the house by myself aside for work, seeing my shrink, and oh, yeah, work for three freaking weeks. It's hard to not be frustrated by this. Home on Saturday night typing away at nine forty five and thinking that I should be in bed right now. It really is rather sad. Argh.

I've been fighting the industrial sized Sad lurking at my door for the last couple of weeks. I lost it two wednesdays ago and started decorating my arms again. It hadn't happened in a couple of months. But that day just piled up on me, and before I knew it I was in the bathroom scratching the skin off of my arms. It hasn't happened since, but the urge has been there, right under the surface, ever since. This ever-present idea in the back of my head, an alternative to feeling the way I do. Release. Sometimes I have to sit on my hands to stop it from happening. I am a fucking mess, and sometimes I don't think any amount of medication or therapy will change that.

jaysus, this post was going to be about the nice day I had with my son. Look what it turned into. yikes.

:sigh:

I can't really form a coherent thought at this advanced stage in the evening, however, I have to say for the record that this administration makes me angrier and angrier every day. After perusing this site, I have to ask, where is the justification for this kind of bloodshed? why is this lying bastard of a president even in office right now? how the hell can so many Americans brush off these numbers as unfortunate but necessary? hundreds of people dying for this sham of an administration. stop the damn bus, I want to get off.

this is why I have been avoiding the internet for months. I become overwhelmed by the wealth of information available confirming the fact that indeed we are being royally fucked by our very own government. I don't even know where to start to make a difference in this mess, or if I can. but jeebus, how can anyone with a soul ignore the nonsense going on up in here?

not my president. not my war. don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out, you lying bastard.

when I went to pick my kiddo up from daycare one of the teachers there pulled me aside. she told me although Ethan has only been there for a week she feels a special bond with him which rarely happens and that he really is a sweet little boy. she said, and I quote, "I just love him!"

awww. that made this mama's heart burst with pride. made me feel like I am doing something right on this planet.

sometimes you have to walk completely away from something to realize how much you miss it. how much it has become a part of your day. how it is an addiction just like anything else. viva la blog.

i've been around the web for a while now. i've had three previous weblogs. three former incarnations, if you will. but they won't be linked to this site. they will quietly rest in peace in their undisclosed locations, because, well, it makes me sad to read the things i have said in those previous incarnations. so the past will remain just that, the past. for those who care, that stuff still lurks out there in the bowels of the internet.

i'm 24. i live in a small town not too far removed from the fine city of Chicago. i'm a newly minted cubs addict. i do clerical support for a faceless corporation in a suburb of the aforementioned city. i also draw and do a little writing on the side for a guy with a big dream. maybe someday i will become rich and famous for the work i am engaged in for this dreamer. a girl can dream too, right?

in my former lives i have been a waitress, a secretary, a grocery clerk, a webgeek, a receptionist, and a steakknife salesperson. i have lived in various suburbs of the aforementioned city.

i am perpetually single. though i have tried and tried, i can't seem to nail down the relationship thing. i start dating someone and nightmare scenarios ensue. so i have made the decision to avoid that kind of messiness. there is more than enough trouble i can get myself into being on my own.

i'm a mom. my son is four and just started preschool last monday. he is bright and clever and funny. he loves to draw and tell stories. he is stunningly perceptive and has the memory of an elephant. he loves anime and sings along to modest mouse and elliott smith in the car. he is a cool little kid.

i struggle with various mental health issues. i apologize in advance for any self pitying rambles or hellacious shitfits that might be posted on this weblog in the future. it's just one of them thangs that makes me so durn loveable. medication and copious amounts of therapy keep these tendencies in check most of the time though, so don't be too scared.

that's it for now... goodnight, goodnight.