Written @ 11:59 p.m. on 2007-09-09
Stuck at work with nothing to do...
My arm looks really bad. Really bad. I told the girls that I thought my big bruise was kind of embarrassing,"I mean, look at it!" and I expected them to react with, "You are right. Gross! What's for lunch?" N, in her patient, motherly tone, says,"Mom, don't make us look at it, it will just embarrass you more. No one will even notice it if you don't point it out. You are beautiful." She is only 7, and she has this capability to tune into people's emotional state with an uncanny sensitivity. She has been this way her whole life. I think she was born this way, because when I was upset and she was an infant (as I often was, living with my ex) she used to get agitated. When was happy, she was happy. She's really amazing. I don't think that she could have survived these years without that gift. Not only does she survive these adverse conditions, she thrives with this extreme sensitivity for everyone she meets. Her dad continually tries to capitalize on this sensitivity, and that is what threw me over the edge into depression yesterday. He never pulls this shit with P because P wouldn't get involved with him and his "needs". She'd just shrug and walk away. Like any bully, he carefully selects the one his tactics will work on. How dare anyone twist her exceptional caring into a weapon to be used against her? I love her so much and I feel so lucky to hang out with her, and watch how she works. She didn't condemn her dad, she just cried and said,"He just isn't being himself lately!" She is the most compassionate creature I have ever encountered.
So, after five hours of wallowing and blowing off work, when the kids were in bed, I tore all of the furniture out of my bedroom and redecorated. This is what I do when I'm pissed, I move heavy furniture. It totally works for me. B. showed up at about 2 am and helped me hang up this cool new thing BoSo gave me. Its a Christmas decoration, I guess, this giant star-shaped topiary thing, with twinkly lights. I hung it from the ceiling in the corner of my bedroom, and I think it is going to be quite romantic when the lights are off, and the white lights are glowing. I have this whole bringing the garden inside thing going on at my apartment, and it fits in nicely.
B.'s guitar fits in perfectly, and I was looking at it, and thought that it would be a nice inspiration for a wedding. It was white, but faded to pale yellow, with a black neck and silver embelishments. I thought those would be nice theme colors. I imagine a white dress, with pale yellow ribbon lacing it up the back, and pale yellow tulips in the bouquet, guitars on the invitations...silver, pale yellow, and black.
I just want a pretty party. How fucking lame? I mercilessly made fun of girls like this in my early twenties, and just like a biological clock, it hit me too. I want a pretty party like all of the other girls, daddy!
I'm really scared of being married. I asked B. to fill out the interest forms for Girls Scouts for the girls, and he spelled my last name wrong. This gave me pause. He's not illiterate, to the contrary, we discuss shakespeare at length. He is just a child with some stuff. I feel like he can't handle the day to day responsibility of grown up life. He's good for guitars, wrestling, beer drinking, porn, comic books, heavy metal, etc...but he doesn't know what a mutual fund is. He doesn't know to change the oil in my car. He doesn't take charge with things. His laid back attitude is a blessing and a curse, because then I feel like I have to fix and do everything.
So, a wedding may be a long way off, but when it happens, damn it , it will be pretty.