Suburban Goddess

As I started redesigning, I became inspired by DOOCE, who changes her masthead monthly. So I designed about 12 new mastheads, all which require some CSS tweaking to get the overall site to match, which, despite the fact that I love CSS, is still somewhat a pain in the ass. So maybe today. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe I’ll just get irritated and put it in the pile of “Other Stuff I’ll Get Around To, But Never Will.”

On a brighter note, the photography website is almost finished. That’s one less thing.

This isn’t permanent, but I need a new look… stay tuned for the final….

I’m always fascinated by Bill Maher. I was raised in a conservative Republican household, but my parents weren’t what I would consider die-hard Republicans. I think my mom would most times lean more towards the Democrat point of view on many issues. Maybe that’s why I’m so indecisive; I was taught to think things through before blindly accepting them. Unfortunately, I think them through so much, it usually ends in a mental stalemate, and I’m forced to go caffinate myself to jumpstart my brain from it’s vegetative state of overthinking…

Anyway, while watching Bill Maher this weekend, the subject of drugs came up on his show (as it often does.) Bill does not hide, in any way, his desire for the legalization of drugs. And I would have to say, I tend to carefully agree. I know many recreational drug users, people who smoke on the weekends, drop a little X while out partying, run a line while hanging in a club… and if you looked at them during the week, you would never have a clue. In fact, I was astonished when I discovered that so many people I know still use drugs.

The fact is, it’s hypocritical to tell people they can’t use drugs when alcohol and tobacco are still legal. And don’t get me started on pharmaceutical companies; I think they will be the downfall of the American dream. (Do you see the cycle? They fluff up the doctors & politicians, who in turn OVERMEDICATE the consumers to promote capitalism, which in turn zombifies the voting base so politicians can get away with murder and the rich keep getting richer…) Sorry. Rant. I hate big drug business.

But if THEY can get away with drugging us up, why can’t it be our own choice? I know, I know, I’ve heard the “you have to protect the children” schpiel already. But kids today are slamming cough syrup to get high; the fact is, if you’re not paying attention to what your kids are doing, it doesn’t matter what they’re using. They’ll use anything. God forbid my child ever use any kind of drug, but I would rather know she’s smoking weed than sniffing paint thinner. If she were doing either, I would hope that I was not blind enough to miss it and seriously question where I’ve failed her as a mother. (Calm down, I know a lot of REALLY good parents whose kids did drugs anyway, but in most cases, it was just a curiosity phase.I’m not saying you’re a bad parent if your kid does drugs. I’m saying you’re a bad parent if you catch them and don’t do anything about it!) But if it’s legal, you know who’s selling it, you know who’s buying it, and you know what you’re getting isn’t laced with coke or PCP or God knows what…

The greatest irony of all would be legalizing drugs and using the money to fund our pathetic education system. If the world’s largest superpower can be built by immigrants who were theives & murderers, then why can’t our education system be funded by drugs? At least we would have SMART junkies. Maybe they would even make an educated decision to never start using in the first place.

The weather was incredible yesterday, and Alex was out with her daddy, so I decided to pull the little yellow car out of the garage, peel off the top, and enjoy a drive through The Woodlands. There is nothing that can compare to a drive in a convertible on a day like yesterday; clear and sunny, the air at a perfect temperature, the wind in your hair as you take a 90 degree turn in third gear….

God, I will miss that little car….

But anyway, I was heading back home on Woodlands Parkway when I had to stop for a red light, when a 1984 DeLorean pulled up next to me.

Nothing geeks me out quite as much as a DeLorean. I have seen Back To The Future over 100 times. I can credit my entire love of sportscars to this very car; the gull wing doors and stainless steel body were the COOLEST thing I’d ever seen at 10 years old. So I’m staring at it with the stupidest grin on my face, while the driver is staring back at my car with a measure of respect. I guess he misunderstood the stupid grin as a challenge, because when the light turned green, he punched the gas and took off.

Oh, HELL NO.

I dropped the clutch, slammed the shifter into first, and put my foot to the floor. The Lotus doesn’t has a great deal of low-end power, so I cursed silently as I waited for the V-Tech to kick in at 5500 rpms and closed the gap between me and the DeLorean. By now, we were rapidly approaching 60 mph, and I could imagine what this would look like to an officer. But I refused to back down until he did, and the speed continued to climb until I looked down and saw we were going almost 80. We cleared the overpass at Grogin’s Mill, catching the slightest bit of air, when I had the most hysterical thought.

He only had 8 more mph before his bumper would start to glow blue and sparks would shoot out from under the car….

And with that, I realized the absurdity of racing ANYTHING on Woodlands Parkway, and immediately slowed it down. He, too let off the gas, and I ducked behind him. We slowed back to a decent speed, until coming up to another red light. There was a kid in the car next to us, pointing at both of the cars, saying something excitedly that looked like “THAT IS SO COOL!” And I was transported back twenty years, a silly little girl again.

It was the most wonderful feeling.

As I plunk my deepest thoughts, feelings, conversations & musings down on my keyboard everyday, it’s easy for me to forget that there are those of you who actually READ this thing. I started this blog almost two years ago (right about the time my marriage started to get messy, irony). It began as a place where I could say my piece & find a tiny bit of Internet Rockstardom; that euphoria one gets by reading a comment from a perfect stranger. Since then it has:

a) almost cost me my job

b) occasionally caused serious marital strife &

c) alienated members of my extended family

The funny thing about it is, I never shared the address with anyone. People actively searched me out, whether through Google-ing my name, or nosing around my website (there is no clear spot that says BLOG), or through word of mouth from others. I was happy with my anonymity; I was able to say the things here that I can’t say in real life. And amazingly, through the support of comments and emails, I discovered it was OKAY to think these things, and I’m not crazy for thinking them, and people in my situation would have handled it the EXACT SAME WAY. Or not.

But my point is, I DO have feelings, too. And when I come here to vent, or whine, or just LAUGH AT YOU, it’s perfectly unfair for people to take these things out of context and then use them against me. If I am in your space, then I will respect you. I will be nice. Because honestly, who wants to hear they’re being stupid? Seriously?

But here, we are in my space. And I will say what is on my mind here, because I can’t do that in regular life. If you venture here and disagree with me, say something! Post it! Blast me in front of the world! Because here, confrontation is OKAY. Here, you are protected by the laws of action & consequence. Yes, I may say something about you, but you have every right to defend yourself. State your side of the story and let the world decide. Here, I believe in complete and total FAIRNESS.

Because you can’t get that on the outside.

I guess this is the consequence of bearing your soul for all of cyberspace to see. But I refuse to change for anyone anymore. I have just as much right to say how I feel as the next person.

“Karate? What are you going to do with that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to. I want to study weapons training.”

“Numchucks?”

“No, the cane pole.”

“I’m seeing a theme in your life. Didn’t you twirl a flag in high school?”

“Un huh.”

“So you seem to have a thing with big sticks.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. Seems kinda Freudian to me…”

“Well, not in YOUR case….”

For the past few mornings, I’ve awoke with a start. My mind immediately begins to race, running away with the “what if’s.” I get myself in such a fit that I can’t go back to sleep, and then I’m stuck lying there working myself into full blown panic attacks.

The absurdity of it hits me later. But I can’t stop. If I start to focus on my situation, it sends me into a full-fledged downward spiral. So I try to stay as busy as possible. It seems to work for others; it’s time to put it to work on myself. I’ve surrounded myself with positive, caring people (actually, they’ve always been there, regardless of my situation.) I’ve signed up for a few hobbies that I’ve always wanted to try. I’ve busied myself with the task of finding a new home, packing, cleaning, etc…. but night-time, I can’t hide from it.

As I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, I start to think about things may will never happen. Certain friends have picked up on my weakness and call later in the evening, despite the double-digit rule. Some nights I’m thankful that they ignore it. Sometimes it seems that other people know me better than I know myself at the moment. They try to remind me of who I am. They try to pull me back into myself.

I’ve never been a religious person, but I can honestly say that I do have a spiritual side. And it seems to me that a higher power has put these people in my life for a reason. They continually pick me up when I stumble, despite the fact that only one of them is within a 400 mile radius of me. They reach across the distance, from all corners of the country, at all times of the day. In the most bizarre acts of fate, it’s always at the moment I am at my lowest. “I was just thinking about you, making sure you’re okay.”

How do they know? Not that it matters; it only matters that they do.

I hope that I never have to return the favor, but if I do, I will be there for them. It’s the very least I could do.

Today, I have lost my way. My feet want to carry me home to Louisiana, but Louisiana isn’t really home anymore, either. Texas doesn’t feel like home.

I don’t have a home. I have a roof over my head, and I should be thankful for that. And I am. It could definately be a whole lot worse.

But I don’t have a home. Especially when my baby girl isn’t here. She’s only gone for the evening, and yet, I miss her with my entire heart.

I have a rule in my household. It is a rule established to preserve my obsessive compulsive sleep patterns, but honestly, I believe it should just be common sense for anyone who knows you have a family.

Do not call my house before 10:00am, and do not call my house after 10:00pm.

The 10 to 10 zone is OFF LIMITS. Unless we have plans on a Saturday or Sunday that include the hours BEFORE 10:00am, I am probably trying to catch up on all the sleep I’ve lost throughout the week. After 10pm, I am either engaged in some activity that probably would not be condusive to a telephone conversation or I am asleep. And we’ve already established what happens if my sleep pattern is disturbed. Watch out.

Thank you to everyone who has called, written, and expressed their concern & love for me over the past few days. I am okay, & I will be okay. I’m not going to bury my sorrows in a bottle or drive my car off a cliff (so stop worrying, Mom!).

Those people who know me & Chip well are disappointed, but not completely surprised by this. Those who know both of our personalities know that we are both selfish and stubborn, with a crippling inability to confront things that bother us. That leads to apathy, then resentment, passive-aggressiveness, and finally, divorce.

Our idea of a failed marriage is one that most people would look upon as normal, even enviable, compared to the marriages they are trapped in. I know that I did. I thought it could still work. I still think it can work, but that takes two, and without two corresponding opinions, it doesn’t matter. I am angry, I am bitter, I am disillusioned and I am disappointed.

But I’m not dead.

If you had to come here to look for the answer “Why are Chip & Kristie getting divorced?” then you should ask yourself, “How well do I really know them?” Some of you who lurk here without comment have seen my disillusionment for some time. Some of you have called or written over the course of time to check on one of us. And we probably put on a happy face, because that is what we do. But you knew. And you offered your unwavering support of both of us. And for that, I am so thankful. To Chip’s friends & family who have crossed over the battle line to say, “Hey, you’re still okay in our book,” I want you to know that it means so much to me. Without Chip, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to know what incredible & wonderful people you are. S, B, M & J, I’m talking about you. You know who you are.

To those who want to draw a line in the sand… well, I have little use for you. I’ve taken responsibility for this, too. I am not a victim; I am not innocent. I do not expect anyone to take sides, but if you choose to do so, it’s your right. I do not, nor will I ever, hate Chip. I will, in time, find a way to forgive him, and I hope that he will do the same. But I am entitled to my anger. I am entitled to my frustration. And I am entitled to say my piece here, in my own forum. If you want to judge me, that’s your right. But that doesn’t make it right.

The answers are simple. Two people, completely different worlds, who have grown apart though EVERY fault of their own. How ironic that in the effort to keep from upsetting one another, we destroyed our relationship. But I will always care about him. I hope he finds what he’s looking for. I hope he tries to be the best father he can be to my little girl. I hope he finds peace.

And herpes. (just the anger talking)