Mists · and · Mystery

So I logged on to Facebook today and was reading through all of the status updates while I chomped down some of my Pops cereal. I was almost all the way through the new ones when I happened to see one from Derek saying that his older brother had died. The post was from 16hours previous.

I called him, but he didn't answer. A few hours later I got a text from him saying, "Hey, what's up?" So I told him that I had read the status on Facebook and asked him how he was doing. We didn't really get into the whole thing, I just told him that I was here for him if he needed me, and invited him for dinner at some point, to which he politely declined.

I know that I have a hard time dealing with people who are grieving. Or at least, I have been told that I do. I don't say things like "I'm sorry for your loss" or anything to that effect. Which stems from my absolute hatred of people saying that to me. There is only so many times you can hear that from people before you want to punch them. Or at least in my opinion. Instead I ask people how they are feeling instead of imposing my feeling (which is really what "I'm Sorry" says) onto them. Because of this, I have been told that I am incredibly rude and unfeeling towards them because I don't sit there and constantly tell them how sorry I am, and how sympathetic I am, and I don't try to shove offers of help down their throat. I don't know... maybe that does make a an unfeeling bitch. Or maybe that stems from the "You treat people how you expect to be treated in the same situation". If someone close to me dies, I don't want people all up in my face about it all the time. I want someone to completely distract me from it. Don't mention it, just keep me occupied with other things. I don't understand how that is so wrong.

I just wish there was a manual for how to deal with these situations.

No song title this time. Simply a statement of fact.

As most people know, my mother and I have an extremely turbulent relationship. Mostly it's her walking all over me with stilettos digging into my back and me just lying there and taking it.

Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.

It's been brewing for a while now. I would have to go ahead and say that it really started when I noticed that there are no pictures of me in the fucking house. I've harped on this many times. Many times. But I think that speaks to how deeply this hurts me. It makes me feel worthless, unloved, and unwanted. My mother has at least two dozen pictures of my sisters in the living room alone. In fact, there are so many pictures of my sisters that they have spilled over into the kitchen as well. Oh sure, there are pictures of me, in the basement. And they are small and from when I was a fucking kid. And the only reason they are there is because my mom had made the collage about 15 years ago.

Then there is the constant teasing. Granted, maybe I should have a thicker skin. I am a sensitive person. But I shouldn't have to be made fun of to this extent by my own fucking family. It's always about how crazy I am, how stupid I am, how fucked up I am. I am sick and tired of it. And now they've graduated into doing it in front of a stranger. I've said something about how much this bothers me on previous occasions. I've asked them to stop. Mom just says "oh, everyone gets made fun of! You just need to grow a thicker skin!" What I need is for you guys to stop doing nothing but tell stories about how I was/am a horrible person. I guess it would literally kill you to actually say something nice about me, huh?

The straw that broke the camel's back is this: When I moved out of my parents' house into this apartment I was told that I could still go over there and do laundry. Well, apparently the maybe one day a week I go over there to do laundry is too much. That's right, my mom doesn't want me over the house as much. Wow, Ma, what a way to make me feel loved. Oh, that's right. I'm pretty sure you don't. She is trying to get me to put a washer in my house except a) I don't have a dryer hook-up and b) I don't have the room for it. The solution to the dryer problem was to air dry the laundry. Where the fuck am I supposed to do that? She's fucking retarded.

So I decided that I am simply fucking done with this shit. I haven't spoken to her since. And I don't plan to either. I really don't have to be constantly subjected to her bullshit all the fucking time. The last time I talked to anyone in my immediate family was when I called my dad after the tornadoes. If mom had answered I probably would have hung up. But she was still at work because they wouldn't let her go home.

Oh God the tornadoes.

Scary as fucking all hell. I actually holed up in the bathroom a few times because I didn't like the look of the sky overhead. I was exceedingly lucky, my area didn't get hit. Springfield, West Springfield, Wilbraham, and most especially, Monson did get hit. One of my friends' law offices got wrecked, and there was damage to his house. Drew originally thought that his house was trashed, but figured out later that the debris was mostly from other people's houses. There is also some other minor property damage belonging to some friends, but everyone is okay, thank God. It was just all insane. I hope I never have to live through something like that again.

So several things going on right now:

1) My downstairs neighbours' teenagers keep skipping school so that they can sit around and blast their music as loud as they possibly can. Not kidding. The floors of my apartment shake with the force of it. I honestly thought the first time they did it that it was the people right next door to me and I was a little bit peeved, but it made me pretty pissed when I found out it was coming from below me. I got even more pissed off when I went outside to sit on the steps and I had my headphones up so loud my ears were hurting and I could still hear their shitty, generic, every-song-sounds-exactly-the-same music like it was right next to my ear. So I've taken to listening to oldies music as loud as I can to drown them out. I figure I might as well listen to music that has (arguably) some artistic value to it.

2) Civil War Week has started on the History Channel. This makes me squee with delight! However, I feel as if I am seriously being cheated since the programs don't start until 9pm, and from what I can tell there will be a whole bunch of programs that have a "Civil War Theme". Such as a Civil War themed American Pickers and Pawn Stars. These shows don't necessarily teach me what it is that I want to know about the Civil War. I am very impressed with the Gettysburg documentary they had on last night. It was a bit over dramatic, but that is okay, it makes all the info go down a bit easier. At least for me anyway. I am more likely to remember it if you add in a whole bunch of useless factoids along with it. I'm just odd that way. After that there was a docu-drama about the Reformation years, which I am just not that interested in. Tomorrow's big feature is a doc about Lee & Grant. My problem with it is this, everyone thinks that Grant was the big shot guy throughout the entire war. He wasn't. He was the fifth one to take over that job. He was arguably better than most of the others who came before him (*cough cough McClellan cough cough*) but his main strategy for winning the war was to throw as many men at the Confederacy as he could. After all, we outnumbered them vastly. The casualty stats are insane. Was it effective? Clearly. But I wouldn't go so far as to call him "Brilliant" like most people do. But hey, I gotta take what I can get, right?

3) My dreams have been so fucked up it is amazing. Last night I had a dream that my immediate family and I were in a funeral home going over each others final wishes. As my mom was looking over coffins I told her flat out that I wanted to be cremated immediately and no one was allowed to look at my dead body except for the morticians. I find open caskets creepy as hell. It's downright morbid to stare down at a corpse like people do. Anyway, after we were done with the funeral stuff, we went our separate ways. There was a huge storm that was supposed to be coming our way, so we were told to take cover. The next thing I know I dream-wake up and the storm is over and I can't remember what happened. I call up my sister who says that Mom is dead, but that I was allowed to go to the funeral or anything like that. When I ask why, she says "Because you didn't bunker down with the family during the storm." It disturbs me that I don't know what happened to myself during the storm so I start out to investigate. I try going to see Aubrey, but they went missing during the storm. This freaks me out even more. I end up figuring out that I did manage to take cover in an electronics store under a table of computer parts. I wander around for a while trying to process everything, the storm, the death of my mother, Aubrey, Rowan and Terzi missing, and I come upon the park where there are a bunch of wounded people there. There are three healthy people among them, and each one of the three goes up to an injured person and lays their hand on their face and heals their pain. One of the three catch sight of me and beckon me over. I resist at first, but I am compelled to go over there. The man who beckoned me over takes my hands and lays them on a younger guys face and I heal him. At this point my dream has become even to weird for my subconscious so I wake up. Dreammoods is unhelpful. It makes me even more confused. Anyone's suggestion is welcomed.

Yesterday was a day for watching war documentaries. I've been chipping away at the Ken Burns documentary The Civil War, and enjoying every moment of it. But I was in the mood for something a little different, so I decided to watch Restrepo.

I had heard about this documentary on Anderson Cooper 360. It was filmed by an acclaimed photojournalist, who had tragically died in Libya when the building he was in was destroyed. They had the director of the film on there to talk about working with him, and used Restrepo as one of the greatest achievements in his career. The film follows the Second Platoon during their tour in Afghanistan. They were stationed in one of the worst places there, and was fired upon daily. They managed to take more ground than their predecessors, and named the new outpost "Restrepo" after a comrade who had fallen while taking the new position. It was incredibly good, but understandably intense. Junger and Hetherington (The men who made the film) were bunkered down with them during their tour and experienced everything they did, including bouts of intense fire fights. It was a good insight to how these men operate under pressure. So I definitely recommend it.

And after it was over, all I could think about was my friend, Stuart.

Stuart and I had been online friends for many years. We met each other when I had a blog on OpenDiary. We talked constantly online, about anything and everything.

Then September 11 happened.

Stuart had been interested prior to this in joining the military, but hadn't really decided if it was for him, or what branch he wanted to join. I talked to him on September 13, and he was completely keyed up. "I'm totally joining now so I can kill those damn towel-heads!" He told me. "It's gonna be great!" I tried telling him that war was not glamorous, and I gave him the famous bastardized quote from General Sherman: "War is hell." It was a big bone of contention between us, I was scared for him, and he didn't understand that. He just thought I was an anti war liberal. I wasn't. I'm still not. I don't really approve of war, per se, but I understand that war happens. I just didn't want him to rush into making a decision because temper was up. Eventually, that subject was closed to us, and while we still talked, it had a tinge of strain to it.

I met up with him when Nancy and myself drove down to South Carolina to see her boyfriend whom she had met over the internet. When I told him about the trip and how we would be stopping over in Virginia (which is where he lived) we made plans to see each other. We all met up in a big public place, the local mall. It was Nancy and myself, and Stuart, his off and on girlfriend (who I hated,and was justified later because she was cheating on him), and his girlfriend's friend. We had a fun time laughing and talking to each other and I was sad to say goodbye.

We talked on and off again for the next year or so, and then he joined the Army. Even though I knew he was making this decision with a clearer head, it was still hard. He went off to basic, and I didn't hear from him again for almost two years.

I was living with Drew, when I got the email message from him asking if I remembered him (of course I did), and if he could talk to me. When I got a hold of him again he sounded tired and disillusioned. Which he was. "I should have listened to you." He said. "It isn't like I thought it would be. I've seen things I never thought I would see, and I wish to God I hadn't." We talked for a while and when it was time to get off the phone he said: "I am going out on another mission in a few days, but after that I'll be home on leave. I'd like to come and see you while I am home." I told him that he was absolutely welcome any time and for however long. He promised that he would get in touch with me once he got back.

I never heard from him again.

I tried contacting him, many, many times, but I got no response. I prefer to think that he just didn't want to talk to me after that because I'd rather not think about the alternative. I can't even bring myself to say it, think it, or type it. In my imagination, he is safe and healthy and is living out his life with a wonderful woman by his side, and two kids playing in his backyard.

I know that is how he would like me to think about him.

I've been either ridiculously tired and sleeping like the dead, or ridiculously tired and can't sleep worth shit. I'm not exactly sure what is causing it, I keep wondering if I am coming down with something again, but since this has been going on for almost two weeks now I am assuming that I would actually have some symptoms by now. It doesn't help that when I do sleep I am having crazy dreams again. But even then, those crazy dreams only started a few nights ago. I could blame the weather, but again the dreary weather only started a few days ago too. I am tempted to say that I am in a depressive phase, but I really don't feel depressed and I am more manic when I am awake I think based upon certain symptoms (i.e. talking too fast, not having a filter on what I say, being impulsive). Also I have been eating very strange foods, although that is not completely abnormal for me. I tend to eat them around 7pm when the Red Sox come on. Last night I had Funfetti cake, mint chocolate chip and croutons (of course the game wasn't on because they are playing the AL West this week).

Of course, the only reason I didn't sleep like the dead last night was because Derek and I got into it at 10:30pm and it kept up until after 11:30pm and I just couldn't sleep well after that, replaying it in my head and trying to figure out maybe a different way of explaining things because I clearly didn't do a good job last night. He's upset because I still haven't told my mom and dad that we are dating again. This is not abnormal, I don't advertise my relationships when it comes to my family. My mom can't stand the fact that I date anyone, so why bother. I just don't want to hear shit about it at the moment. That is the other reason why he is upset. He thinks that I went around telling my family that he was a complete asshole after the last time we went out. He doesn't understand that I don't talk to my family about this shit. The only thing that happened was that I ended up crying about shit, but there was also a lot of other stuff going on and it was simply the straw that broke the camel's back. And considering the fact that crying for me is the norm, I don't think she really batted an eye. It wouldn't be the first time I cried over a guy, it was like the umpteenth million time. She wasn't thrilled that he and I were dating, but when is she ever thrilled when I date someone? He doesn't seem to get this at all, and I am not sure if it is because I am not explaining it correctly, or if he is simply being dense. Then he was going on about how he thought that I was clinging to the past and that he has gone through a lot of changes and blah blah. I'm not fucking retarded, and while it is nice to reminisce about the past, I certainly don't expect him to be the same person. If he was that would be exceedingly weird. I'm not the same person I was either. And here I thought we were having good communication, but obviously I was wrong.

I just want to feel somewhat rested for the first time in weeks. Is that really too much to ask?

So I went walking to work yesterday in the wee small hours like I do pretty much every day. I am walking along, attempting to let the cold air wake me up, again, like every other day, and I reach the crosswalk that I need to cross. I look to the right, then I look to the left. The right is clear, and the car on the left is really far away so I should have plenty of time to cross, or at least he has plenty of time to slow down/stop so he doesn't hit me.

Instead, he hits me. And keeps on speeding away.

Fucker knocked me out of my fucking shoe. I was damn lucky I noticed that he wasn't even going to slow down and I tried to get out of the way. He still got me in my left leg on his way by. My shoe ended up 10 feet away from me. And No one stopped to help me!!! I'm not kidding. I was on the ground hysterical, without a shoe and my leg twisted up, and for about 10 minutes no one helped me. Finally this little old Portuguese guy and his wife stopped and called the cops that I was too hysterical to call earlier.

So, long story short, the guy fucked up my knee and I have to walk on crutches and have a full leg brace and I need to see the orthopedic surgeon next week.

I sincerely hope something bad happens to him.

So I did it. I broke up with my boyfriend. It was the best thing for me to do. He couldn't give me what I wanted, and I deserve to get what I want out of life, namely marriage and kids. It's what I have wanted my entire life, but after I hit 24 and wasn't married yet, I kind of let it fall into the background a little bit. That, and with how screwed up I was, there was no way I would have made a good wife. It wasn't until I realized that I was with someone who couldn't give me that dream that I became ultra clear on what it is that I truly wanted. And in the words of my therapist Jane, "Once you become as clear as possible with what you want, the Universe takes notice and gives you the opportunity to get it."

How true this is.

Suddenly, things are looking up for me. It's refreshing. I've been living under a cloud the past few months, and suddenly the sun is starting to shine in earnest. I just found out that my gas bill will finally be covered by the fuel assistance agency so that is about $400 I no longer have to worry about, then I found someone who wants the same things out of life that I do. Someone I should have been with 10 years ago. Let's hope it works out way better this time than it did last time. So far so good.

And that is the story so far.

You will notice that the title of this entry is not a song title, but instead a personal philosophy of mine.

This entry will be my thoughts on certain points in history.

I guess I'll start on the Civil War and my sadly lacking knowledge on it. (I really need to ransack my dad's book pile). Okay, so we all know the story that they taught us in school: The North hated slavery, and those pesky Southerners were all about keeping them! Or, if you lived in the South, those pesky Northerners kept telling the South what they needed to do about their slaves! Both of these schools of thought are wrong. How this became the canon I'm not too clear on. Was slavery a part of the war? Yes. Was it the main reason? Absolutely not. Finance, land, and industry were the key points. Sure, the South had the raw materials, but the North had the textile factories to take those raw materials and turn them into something usable which the South then had to buy back.

During the mid 1800's, the United States were acquiring more states and more land. Now if the North had their way, a lot of the new land would be used for agriculture and railways, stuff like that. Now the South wanted that land as well, but for cotton. Lots and lots of cotton. That started it's own battle over what this rich land would be used for. Now I will concede that part of the issue would be the ever expansion of slavery, but this was mainly a concern for the politicians. Your everyday common person could give two shits about slavery. And the myth that all Northerners were completely against slavery is just that, a myth. As a matter of fact, depending on where they were from, many of them didn't want the slaves to be free, if they cared at all. So here we are, the North having most of the industry in the form of arms, textiles, railways, factories; and you have the South with it's cotton agriculture and slavery. So while legislators were busy divvying up the lands and determining what would be grown here, and what states would still have slavery, you have the normal everyday Southern person going about their business, slowly but surely being pushed in the direction of "Hey, don't you tell me what to do!"

By the time Abraham Lincoln took office, things were at a boiling point. The Southerners were going on and on about "States Rights", and how no Northern politician was going to tell them what to do. South Carolina went first. And that gave the other states courage to do the same thing. It became almost like a temper tantrum. "I don't like what you are doing, so I'm not gonna listen to you anymore!"

People like to go on and on about the unity of the Confederate States of America, but if you look at the preamble of their "Constitution" it clearly states: "We, the people of the Confederate States, each State acting in its sovereign and independent character..." Basically, there are no United Confederate States of America. The wording leaves room for each state to go off on their own whenever the hell they want if they don't like what is going on with the other states and the loose government they have set up.

Now, if the President and other lawmakers at the time had just allowed these states to go off on their merry little way, that opens up the door for every state to go off on their merry little way whenever they hell they feel like it. Lincoln knew this. Many Northern officials knew this. Many citizens knew this. Which is why they told the Confederate States to fuck themselves and that they weren't going to leave the Union no matter what. And so the fighting begins.

When you look at diary entries of some of the Union soldiers you can see that the reason they are fighting is to preserve the Union, not abolish slavery. As a matter of fact, when the Emancipation Proclamation became public, some of the Union soldiers threatened to desert. Sure, there soldiers that were for abolition as well, and there were just as many that just didn't give a shit. That had no bearing on their belief in the sanctity of the Union.

I think that if those soldiers, on both sides, were to come back now and hear how the general public is taught the Civil War they would be appalled. The subject gets, what, maybe two weeks devoted to it? And the books have simplified such a complex situation into the slavery debate.

Okay... off the Civil War... now onto some parts of WWII:

Okay, really only one point at this juncture and it is the subject of France.

Ah, yes. The surrender of France. The origin and butt of many many jokes. And every time I hear one I just want to slap that person silly. Clearly they have no idea what was going on in Europe at that period of time. WWI had ended only 20 years prior. Now to many people they turn their noses up and scoff at that. "Pfft! 20 years! That's like, forever!!" It is those people I would love to slap around. 20 years is not that long people! It is certainly not enough time to build up the male population again. I mean, how could the Frenchmen make babies if they were off in the trenches for years on end? And it is even harder to create babies when a big percentage of your male population dies. So really, they didn't exactly have age eligible men lying thick on the ground when Germany threatened to invade. Not to mention the fact that the country was still trying to dig its way out of the financial hole it had dug itself into during WWI. So when Germany came knocking on the front gates, as it were, there wasn't much fighting they could do.

"But," I can hear some people say, "They still should have fought! Die before defeat!" Again, I would like to slap those people around. Okay, so yeah, they can fight, totally. They have barely any man power, they don't have money for ammunition, guns, food. Those are some basic necessities right there. What were they supposed to do? Throw rocks at the oncoming tanks? Yeah, that's effective. They did the only thing they could do under the circumstances. Surrender now, save ourselves, and try and find a way out of it later. Would you really sacrifice your family, and the families of others, to satisfy your misguided sense of patriotism? Sure, individuals loosely banded together and started the French Underground, and they did do a lot of good. But if you were the top leaders of that country, you couldn't risk waging a war that you were guaranteed to lose. Not might lose, guaranteed to lose.

Are you really going to sit there and say that you would still grab your torches and pitchforks and go up against the technologically advanced well trained army coming your way?

Yeah. Didn't think so.

But it rings, and I rise, wipe the sleep out of my eyes...

Okay, yeah enough of that.

So I did have to get up early today to go get follow up blood work done at the doctor's. While I was there I was just hacking and hacking. This has been going on for about two weeks now, and I thought it was just a measly old sinus infection. Nothing to get my panties in a twist about.

Turns out it's not a sinus infection, it is bronchitis, and I should have gone in a week ago (at the latest) to have it checked out. Luckily enough for me, it really hasn't festered in there long enough to make it any more than a mild case that is more annoying than anything else. Good thing I had that appointment, huh? Who knows how long I would have let it rot otherwise. I have to go back in in two weeks for a follow up. Yay me.

Band Guy so helpfully pointed out on my Facebook that I get sick more than anyone he knows at this point. Which is true. This winter has totally kicked my ass. Not to mention the fungal infection I had during the summer. I guess this makes up for not being sick constantly last year. Although, I would like to have kept that up.

Whatever. I'm going back to bed for a while.