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Inquiring Melody Wants to Know...

Today's questions are about "faking it." Please answer honestly, even if you are a big yellow-bellied coward and have to do it under the guise of anonymity...

A. Is there a time when it's OK to "fake it"?

B. When is it NOT OK?

C. Should you ever tell him you faked it?

D. Do men ever fake it?

E. CAN a man ever fake it?

OH, and PS. If you are commenting anonymously, please let me know if you are a man or woman. Thanks and I purply sparkly heart you....

Screaming out Loud....

I really thought I'd post more, when I wrote the last post about Autumn. Go figure, I had no words...

I was going to post on my birthday, but I was so hungover from the Mexican! Fiesta! the girls threw for me that I doubt I could have written a single coherent sentence.

I was going to post on November 22, the day my mom died, but I decided that I wouldn't have any good words that day either.

I was going to post on Thanksgiving day about how happy I was that Mitch and Katie and Jane and Mark and the boys and their girlfriends and my girls were with me and how wonderful Thanksgiving Day actually turned out to BE. But then I ate a lot of turkey and got sleepy and slept for like, 27 hours.

So, here we are. This day means literally nothing and so I have no reason to feel any pressure whatsoever to post something meaningful. Which is just the way I like it.

Today, on Facebook, I set my status as "And I feel like I'm naked in front of a crowd, 'cause these words are my diaries, screaming out loud...." which is actually a line from a fabulous song by Anna Nalick. I highly recommend that you listen to it, and love it like I do. But I digress.

I particularly love this line of the song, and believe you me, I am jealous as hell that I was not the author. What a descriptive line! These words are my diaries, screaming out loud.... Of course, Anna Nalick is referring to songwriting, whereas, if you tried to sing anything "I've" ever written you'd be pelted with withered and rotted vegetation.

I said all of that just to say this: I can SO identify with this one little descriptive line of verse. This blog... the thoughts that I struggle to put into words, and the words that I struggle to put into these paragraphs... they ARE my diaries. And sometimes? Oh how I hope they will scream out loud to you... So that maybe ONE or TWO or TEN of you will say to yourself... "Yeah. I get it. I know what she means. I know who she is. I KNOW Melody. I understand her."

Of course, you could just as easily understand me and HATE me with a fiery hot passion. And that's ok too, though I would have to say to you, "If you hate me that much, what the fuck are you doing here, reading my blog? Go live your life, you backstabbing son-of-a-cock-whore!"

OK. I'm not making a whole lot of sense, here, am I? Some of you will know that that is the NORM with me. Not making sense is what Melody does best, donchaknow.

Oh, you guys, what a life I have lived for the last few months. It's been UPUPUP, and it's been downdowndown. But it has not been dull, not even for a second.

I've been wined and dined, treated like a queen, and treated like shit. I've had phone sex, text sex, cyber sex, and real sex. I've been lied to, cheated on, told I would be a "knockout" if I were NORMAL SIZED, and offered, by a 59 year old married man with false teeth, to be "licked. for one hour." (I had to pass on the licking, by the way. 'Cause, ewwww. False teeth.) I also had sex with my ex husband for money. Don't judge me, I'm making my own rules now.

I've dated an alcoholic, a pathological liar, a pothead, and the nicest guy you'd ever want to meet. (Hi, Fletch!)

I've paid rent, I've mowed grass, and made buddies with the local drug selling teens. (They got my BACK, yo')

I've met lots of "nice" guys online, who, probably because I am a lunatic, have stopped talking to me at some point and now do the POLITE, "hey, how are ya? I'm JUST on my way out! Talk to you soon!"

I've been desperately lonely.

I've been happier than I've ever been in my life.

I've been free.

Yeah, these words are my diaries, screaming out loud........

Autumn....

I've had a love/hate relationship with Autumn for about 20 years now. The cooler weather, the blue skies, the wind whipping through the beautiful colored leaves on the trees... all of these things appeal to that part of me that craves an aesthetic beauty in my life. I don't just like to LOOK at Autumn. I NEED it, on some level that I don't understand, and have decided to no longer question that desire. Nor will I allow myself to feel guilty for it.

Autumn is also the time of year that is hardest and saddest for me. As most of you know, if you're here reading, I lost my mother on Thanksgiving Day, November 22, 1990. That entire Autumn was spent in a crazy jumble of emotions, as I watched my beloved mother waste away, while at the same time trying to nurture the tiny little life growing inside me. Despair generally won the battle, and, as November drew closer that year, I bundled myself way up inside myself and pointedly turned OFF any pleasure that I might otherwise have gained from Autumn's beauty.

In the years since my mother died, I've felt the approach of Autumn with a mixture of hope, and dread. Mostly dread. I've not let myself enjoy this most beautiful of all the seasons, choosing to believe that it should be a time of remembrance... and grief. I've all but PLANNED an emotional breakdown each year, and let myself wallow in a tumultuous pit of longing and anger and self-pity.

My heart... my SOUL... is tired of grieving. Nineteen years is long enough. Is it wrong to feel this way? I don't think so. I think my mother has probably spent the last several years, hands on hips, shaking her head in disapproval at my stubborn refusal to let it go.

I want to enjoy the sights of Autumn! I want to put on a sweatshirt, go for a walk, and sit and watch the leaves fall. I want to SMELL the season, I want to taste it, I want to FEEL it!

Toward that end, I hereby give myself permission to do the following, this Autumn:

1. I will enjoy the sights, sounds, smells of this 2009 Autumn season.
2. I will remember and love my wonderful mother, without guilt, without grief, and without despair.
3. I look forward to and participate in Thanksgiving Day, and I will give thanks, for each good thing in my life, past and present.
4. I will forgive God.

There have been lot of changes in my life this year. And while I will save THAT story for another post, I will say this:

The times, they are a' changin'. And Melody... She is a' changin', too.

Over and around and through me...

I was behind her in line at the grocery. She didn't have many items, and I was in a hurry. I looked in her cart at the few things she had, and then looked in my own. "Poor thing," I thought. She must live alone, like me.

I checked the clock on my phone. I had 15 minutes to get my things paid for and haul my ass to work. I hadn't slept well the night before, worries and annoyances plaguing me for hours. I was tired. I was cranky. I was in a hurry.

I watched as she began to remove the items from her cart and place them on the counter. She moved as if she was mired in quicksand. "Ok," I thought. "She's old. She's slow. But she doesn't have much and it won't take long. Breathe."

I looked more closely at her. She was a tiny little thing, a little hunched over in that way that older people get. She was dressed in what my kids like to call "old lady clothes": a polyester pantsuit and shoes that looked "comfortable", which is my euphemism for UGLY.

Every hair was in place and sprayed to within an inch of it's life. She wore no makeup except for a touch of lipstick. Her face was lined and her skin was saggy. Her hands were wrinkled and gnarled from arthritis and every move she made looked painful.

I stifled a sigh. I do not have a lot of patience with older people. Quite frankly, they frighten me. I have this fear that one of them will fall or die right in front of me, and I won't have a clue what to do with them. I send a silent wish to the heavens that this little lady doesn't keel over dead, not right NOW, when I'm late for work and my head hurts and my eyes feel like I slept in a sandbox.

I looked around. Why was there no one helping this little old woman? Didn't she have children? Were there not people who took care of this sort of thing? I checked my phone again. I had 10 minutes now, to get my shit and get to work. I considered leaving without my things, but I REALLY needed the coffee. And the milk. And holy SHIT we were out of toilet paper. I couldn't leave.

This time the sigh escaped me. The woman turned to look at me and our eyes met for just a moment. Then she smiled at me, and her face was transformed from the wrinkled little... OLD PERSON that she was... to the beautiful woman she must at one time have been. Her eyes were blue and clear and when she smiled, the laugh lines around them crinkled and framed them in a delightful and lovely way. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just poking along, and you only have a few things too. Would you like to go ahead of me?"

I was immediately contrite. I might have been annoyed, but my mother had taught me good manners. "No, of course not, you're fine. Thank you." I said to her. I was a bit ashamed of myself for being so petty.

After what seemed like HOURS, and after she had found a coupon for nearly everything she bought, and after she had counted out EXACT change from the tiny little faded blue change purse she pulled from her ENORMOUS purse, her bags were placed back into her cart and she began to make her way to the front door.

I was late. Crap. My frustration returned and I quickly paid for my things and began to hurry to my car. I passed the little woman and didn't turned back when she said to me, "Have a nice day, honey."

As I left the store, I noted a car parked at the curb. I noticed it because a little old man, not much bigger than the little old woman, was getting out of the car and looking around. "I bet he's looking for her," I thought. "At least she has someone to help her. Though I can't see how he's going to do her much good. He moves more slowly than SHE does."

I put my things in the car and lit a cigarette. Starting the car, I exhaled a cloud of smoke and looked back toward the entrance to the store as I put the car in gear.

And I sat there. And stared.

And I put the car back in park and rolled down my window.

And I watched them.

He met her at the door and walked with her to the car, one hand on the small of her back, one hand with hers on the cart handle. Slowly, so slowly that it was almost painful to watch, they walked back to the car. He stopped the cart beside the passenger door and opened the door. Turning, he took her hand in his and helped her to the car, bending to help her lift her feet inside.

I watched, my eyes wide, as he put his hand on the side of her face and kissed her on the forehead. She reached up to pat his hand, and her face lit up in that beautiful smile again. My eyes began to fill as I watched, and a jumble of emotions welled up in me.

I felt ashamed for being so annoyed with her. I felt humbled by the courteous and loving care he'd shown her. I felt happiness that two people might still feel so much love for each other, after such a long time together.

I put my head down on the steering wheel as I cried. I felt defeated, for my own marriage had ENDED after 25 years. I was alone. I felt bitter jealousy that I did not have what she had. I had never had it.

And that thought filled me with another emotion.

Fear.

I let it wash over and around and through me, as I sat there that day and cried. I cried for the aching loss of something I had never known. I cried for the young girl I had once been, whose goal in life hadn't been money or fame or power. Her only goal had been true love. I cried for the many pieces of my broken heart, my heart that had reached out so many times, in hope, in love, at times in desperation. I cried for the lonely old woman that I would become.

And then I wiped away my tears, started my car, and drove myself to work.

But the fear and the lonely and the loss still washed over and around and through me.

Divorced? Me? Are you SURE?!

So, hey internets... how the hell are you?

I've been away for awhile because I've been busy playing on facebook. Would you like to know what's new in my life? I'm going to tell you anyway....

The divorce was final on April 6. Just 35 days from the date is was filed. I don't know if that's a record in my county, but it's definitely a record here in my office.

So, after the hearing, I moved into my new house and it was like a dream come true. Granted, everything that COULD go wrong DID go wrong, I had boxes and boxes and boxes of boxes to unpack, and I moved in without a bed or a washer and dryer. Or a sofa. But move in I did, and I have never in my life felt so much peace.

And of course, since nothing in my life can go according to plan, my EX decides he wants to be my boyfriend. *sigh*

For about the next two weeks, he calls me night and day, wanting to visit, wanting to tell me how miserable he is, and wanting sex. Oh yes! He wanted sex! I tried, I really tried hard to be understanding. I knew he was going to be lonely. I also knew he thought I was going to run right back to him and beg him to take me back. I had no intention of doing this. So it was a fine line I walked....

Finally, I met one of my new neighbors. Who just happened to be a boy I went to school with, and who also just happened to work at the same place my EX works. I thought it was funny, because they are friends, so I called him up and told him. "Guess who lives right across the street from me? JIMMY Frickin' H!"

Ex was not pleased. Ex was so not pleased that he proceeded to bitch about it for five minutes while we were on the phone. I was on my way to his house to pick up my girls, and so I said, "BYE!" and hung up. When I got there, God help me Jeebus, he was like, NEAR TEARS, and saying that NOW HE KNEW I WAS GOING TO GO OUT WITH JIMMY H.

I tried to reassure him, I have absolutely NO intention whatsoever of going out with Jimmy H. NONE! EVER!

But he kept at it so long that I said, "You wanted this fucking divorce. You filed for it. Guess what? You got it. You have no say anymore in ANYTHING I do. Get the fuck over yourself."

It felt good at the time, but since then, it has been at LEAST once a week that he asks if I've seen Jimmy H. The one week that he didn't ask, when Miss Katie was here, stupid Jimmy H walks over one night while I'm outside having a smoke. So we sit on the porch in the dark and talk about all the people from our class that we hate. He was there maybe 30 min.

Did I tell EX? No, I didn't. I actually forgot about it, and didn't think of it again until today. You know why I thought of it today? Because the EX just called me on the phone and said he'd passed JIMMY H at work today and JIMMY H had LOOKED at him. And apparently, he looked at him with a SHIT EATING GRIN on his face.

I said, "you are ridiculous. he did not." The EX assured me that OH YES HE BY GOD DID!!!

I said, "Not my problem. I did not put that grin there, I assure you."
"I know," says the EX. "Cause you said you haven't seen him and I believe you."

We hang up, and I think. Fffffuuuuccccckkkkk. I did see him. Sort of. On my front porch. At frickin' 11 at night.

5 minutes later, the EX calls back. "You are not lying to my about him are you?"

"NO! LEAVE ME ALONE!" says I.

"Long as you are telling me the truth it will be ok." says the EX.

Now... here is my problem. And here is what I WANT to say to him:

"It will ok, anyway, motherfucker, because I am free and I can do whatever I want with WHOMEVER I want, and that includes Jimmy Frickin' H, even though I would not go with him to the FLEA MARKET."

But now that I have already lied, he's gonna think I have something to hide. UGH! Why do I let this shit happen?

He divorced me! He has no right to do this! Understand that I am NOT afraid of him. IT's the embarrassment and humiliation should he say or do something to Jimmy H.

I'm open to suggestions here, because honestly, I don't know what the hell do about this mess. It is not in me to be mean to him. (He would argue that the fact that I cheated on him was VERY mean, but then, this is not HIS blog, is it?)

I just want to be left alone. He divorced me. He has no right to expect me to be his "girlfriend", and even less right to ask me for sex.

And so, internets, other than that, I'm doing great!

Big Day...

Well, internets, today is the big day.

The day of my hearing. Where we find out if it's a status hearing, a temporary hearing, or a final hearing. Could be any one of the three. Total crap shoot.

My money is on final hearing. Because the HUSBAND made nice-nice with the judge's clerk and got the inside scoop. Everything is being expedited for him because he has to go back to CHINA. Bet he didn't tell them what he was bringing home from CHINA.

Oh well.

I'll let you know how it goes, probably.

love and stuff,

melodyann