metanoia's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Loss and a Memory I dreamed of loss. Not everything or everyone I have ever lost was there, but many � many were there. My aquamarine and gold ring was there, the first thing I ever really bought myself, with my own money that I really wanted. It represented freedom: freedom of choice, freedom from judgment, freedom from living a life someone else wanted for me. My titanium earrings were there (4! of them). I lost one on Friday. They were not expensive, but they were great earrings and one of my favorite pairs. I now have only one. One of the reasons they were so special is that my husband bought them for me when we first moved to Georgia at one of those little fall festival things. So, when I broke the news to him that I had lost one, he said, �What earrings are those?� I described them to him, and still got that blank face. �What festival?� he said. It took me 10 minutes to even get him to kind of remember that there was a fall festival, let alone that he had purchased some earrings there that were wonderful and special. By the time I got through to him, the earrings were not that special anymore. Hell, if he doesn�t remember buying them for me, why should I care that he did? But I did like them, aside from the sentimental value, which isn�t there anymore because he remembers nothing� My nine foot long scarf that I crocheted for myself and is just a kick-ass wonderful thing was there. I lost it last week, too. It had to be Thursday, because I remember wearing it on Wednesday� sigh. Somebody, somewhere is wearing my kick-ass scarf because they found it ---- SOMEWHERE, I have no idea where. I lost a lot of things last week; a fucking plethora of things. Some things which will remain nameless� My brother (one of them) was there, with his wife. It was good to see him and talk to him. Then he and wife had to leave for their fat kids second communion ceremony which they didn�t invite me to and I felt really left out and kicked in the gut. (Obviously this was a very conflicted and emotional dream.) So�I suppose my subconscious is trying to deal with all the loss in my life lately. Good luck, subconscious. I�m rooting for you. A memory: One day, a thousand-million moons ago when I was young and stupid and lived in LA, I woke up early in the morning and decided, �Hey, I�m going to the garment district and get me some new clothes and check out the trendies.� I got dressed, and quite frankly I was looking pretty hot, hopped in my black Porsche (yeah, I was looking hot in a hot ride) and drove the 20 miles into the bowels of the city. I�m driving along the streets, checking out the bums and the brokers trying to find a place to park. Parking in lots was anathema to me; I felt if you resorted to a lot, you just weren�t trying hard enough. So, I�m circling and prowling around looking for a spot on the street (which is really almost nonexistent) and I noticed guys waving at me. �Wow� I thought, �I must really look hot. I�ll just pretend like I don�t notice, play it cool.� You know, like I�m just too hot for you because I�m so cool� something like that. Then I noticed a couple of guys in another car waving at me. �My God� I thought, �I am a guy magnet!� Then I looked up to see a bus coming right at me � in my lane!!! FUCK!! A big, fucking, RTD bus bearing down on my little car that came up to the top of its tires� AAAAAH! I turned into a small lot in between buildings, my heart racing, ears pounding, and tried to calm down after almost dying a tragic death at the hands of the incompetent RTD. That is when I looked out at the street and noticed it was a one way street, down which I was driving the wrong way. Heh. People were not waving at me because I was hot (even though, of course, I was), they were trying to tell me I was a dumbass and going the wrong way and trying to save my pitiful life. What I learned: Yeah, you may be hot, but when people are waving at you, don�t let that be the first conclusion you come to. They may be trying to tell you something important, in addition to saying you are a hottie. My kitchen door opens to the garage. This morning K was taking his truck instead of us carpooling, which he said he was glad he didn�t have to �make that trip� just because I was in a foul mood � he is such a wimp (LOL) he hates to be stuck in the car with me for a 25 minute drive when I am snarly, he was taking his truck which he proceeded to �warm up� and fill the garage with carbon monoxide which came in the back door and filled the kitchen. I despise that smell. I had visions of dying of carbon monoxide poisoning on my kitchen floor. He would find me there, when he came home from work, lying in a pool of vomit, dead. Then he�d be sorry. I told him that and he said he wouldn�t be sorry. LOL. On Friday, K was driving home and some guy was tailgating him and then pulled around him and K said, �Fuck you, go to hell, and take your mother with you.� I�m just adding it here because I thought that was so funny, I had to write it down. 8:37 a.m. - 2006-01-09 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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