You're nothing now and you never were; you're the empty core of a hollow shell!

Okay, so you know how I'm like "Crazy bitch!" and "Fuck this shit!" and "I'll choke a bitch!" and "Oh my gosh I am just going to throw myself off a cliff onto a pile of poop and porcupines and get it over with!"? You know how I'm like that? Well, here's some more.

Jason's ex is still trying to wring extra money out of him, money that he doesn't owe her, money that she is not entitled to. And the only way she'll communicate with him about it is via text message. He tried to go up and talk to her about it yesterday when we dropped Kane and Jude off; her husband was like, "She's in the bathroom, so she won't be able to hear you." FOR FUCK'S SAKES, I CAN'T EXPRESS IN WRITTEN WORD HOW CRAZY THESE PEOPLE ARE.

Just rest assured that we ain't giving her any more money besides the money we are court-ordered to pay her (i.e., the monthly child support). I am tired of all of this. I want to be able to live our lives without receiving these shitty, cowardly, God-forsaken text messages from two crazy people who are so totally self-involved that they can't see past the ends of their own noses, can't even see how their behavior is starting to affect the kids that they're supposed to be raising.

Anyways, just wanted to keep you up-to-date. Plus I haven't done any of my "I might fucking set myself on fire!" in quite some time, and I didn't want y'all to get worried that I had gotten over it. IN FACT, I HAVE NOT GOTTEN OVER IT.

And now for the Micro Wrestling Federation.

For fuck's sakes, if Kane and Jude's step-dad continues to send these assy, threatening text messages to us, I'm going to visit Pelham with a large bag of poop. I cannot stand this any more. See here for further explanation.

Somehow lately I frequently feel like I'm standing in the middle of a crowded room screaming, and no one is noticing. It's lonely and sad, this feeling, and I'm afraid that feeling it this frequently for this long is starting to make me a shitty person. I feel vindictive, mad, self-centered.

There is a lot going on in the next couple of weeks. There's Midget Wrestling this Thursday (click that link, scroll down to see the poster), we have the kids this weekend, I'm scheduled to go to San Antonio with work February 9th through the 12th, and then Valentine's Day is that weekend. Plus, there are three birthdays in a row from the 14th through the 16th (Josh, Deanna, Johnny). Busy time.

I know some people were having trouble getting to the Cutting Room Floor, and I've checked and re-checked and I'm not sure why that is. I'm linking here again just to see what happens. If that doesn't work, just go to www.flickr.com/photos/cuttingroomfloor.

I'm glad y'all are looking. It makes me happy.

Rearin'.

This Saturday is Reed's third birthday. We bought him a tiny skateboard and some knee- and elbow-pads, and I can't wait to give them to him. I am not looking forward to all the injuries, but watching him learn will be fun.

I can't believe what a little dude he is now. He watches Batman and plays with (toy) swords and guns. Then, out of no where, he'll ask, "Can my baby have these? My baby wants to play with this. Can we go get me a baby?"

Kids are WEIRD, and the more you think you know them the less predictable they become.

Occasionally, just every now and then, he'll snuggle up with me and, without warning, turn to me and say, "I love you, mommy." And it makes me feel so overwhelmed, so happy, so imperfect and incapable of doing everything that I want to do for him, all at the same time. He told me the other night, "I'm yo friend and I'm daddy's friend. Yaw my friends."

My hope is that one day I'll be able to look back on all of this through the eyes of a woman who has raised her child, a woman who looks at her grown, happy, healthy child and knows she did the best she could and knows "the best she could" did enough to make him sane and normal and competent. I want so much for him to be joyous and unafraid and caring and kind. I hope that I have the stamina and humility to instill all of that in him.

And I hope that the crazy in my family runs only in the girls. I would truly love it, would be content with my life, if Reed lives a life devoid of the desire/instinct to stab himself in the eye, hit himself in the face with a shovel, or throw himself into the floor and writhe around for a while.

And here is where I empty the contents of my brain onto the page:

I have been reflecting lately on my life, especially the past year or so, on mistakes and opportunities and luck and misfortune. These past eighteen or twenty months have been so hard, so excrutiating. So many bad things have happened over the past little while, both things that are my fault and things that are beyond my control. I am absolutely exhausted, tired of all of this, tired of life, and the only thing that keeps me going is the feeling like maybe we are over the proverbial hump, maybe things are about to get better.

I worry about Kane and Jude quite a bit, about their well-being, their grades, their ability to grow into functioning human beings. I went to drop off the child support check yesterday, and their step-dad kept narrowing his eyes at me and then looking at the check, narrowing his eyes and then looking at the check. Then light dawned on marble head and he laughed and said, "I didn't recognize you. Okay."

Their step-dad, who has been around for about five years and has been married to Kane and Jude's mom for a year-and-a-half and who has seen and spoken to me countless times, DIDN'T RECOGNIZE ME. I suppose maybe he was off his meds yesterday.

Kane and Jude are telling us that they might move to Montevallo, which is great because it's even further away, and we've already been assigned the task of doing all the driving, all the picking up and dropping off, and I am not feeling happy about it. Besides the driving, Kane and Jude are both doing well in school, making friends and good grades and enjoying themselves, and I'm wondering why they feel the need to jerk them up and send them yet another school. Those people move roughly once a year, and I'm not sure that that's healthy for the kids. I realize that plenty of people move around and the kids will survive, but I'm thinking if they're not moving for a job or the military or to be closer to their families, is it really necessary?

Jason and I have just celebrated our fifth anniversary, and I'm proud and grateful that we've made it. Marriage is hard when times are good; when times are tough it can be really very difficult to remember to work as a team, to think like a team. I'm sorry that I haven't always been a team player, Jason; I'm working on it. Happy anniversary. Thank you for being on my team.

Reed's godmother just got engaged to one of the sweetest boys I've ever known. The only advice that I would presume to offer you is to pray to God for patience and perseverence, both of you, because there are moments when those are the only things that will keep you from smacking each other in the head with a hammer. Also, hide the hammer from each other. That helps, too.

My job has really turned things around for me in at least a few ways. I mean, I suddenly find myself a salaried employee with a stable company that builds software. Here's to you, universe: you really know how to confuse the shit out of me. I was voted most tech-savvy on Facebook; I put that on my resume, and I'm sure that's why I got this job.

Oh man, am I tired today.

My job will be sending me to San Antonio before the year is out. This means I'll be flying for the very first time pretty soon. I told my boss, "You know I might get a little keyed up because I've never flown before." He said, "Well have you ever taken a klonopin before?"

Rocking the vote this afternoon, then watching the coverage with friends this evening. Good stuff; looking forward, for a change.

I am floored lately by my closest friends' abilities to simultaneously take care of me and put up with me.

Regarding my new job, it's comforting in an I-can-do-this, not-interesting-enough-to-be-scary, for-the-love-of-God-I'll-get-a-paycheck kind of way.

Reed was a cow for Halloween; pictures to come.

Spring cleaning, delayed.

I gave myself the task of totally cleaning out Kane and Jude's room yesterday. It was my "I don't have a job, I don't have shit to do, what of it?" assigment.



They cleaned it before they left last time, and they "made" their beds which really just means they piled all the sheets and covers on top of the beds. The picture above is what it looked like after I changed the sheets, MADE the beds, and swept everything out from underneath them. I can't express to you what a mess it was- popsicle wrappers, cracker wrappers, pretzels, q-tips, dirty socks, clean shirts. And in their drawers and closets every kind of clothing was shoved into every kind of place. I am a square: I think that socks and underwear belong with other socks and underwear, jeans hang in the closet, marbles and Yu Gi Oh cards don't go with your t-shirts. Square.



I spent four hours yesterday cleaning and organizing their room. I threw away five full garbage bags full of shit, and donated one garbage bag full of clothes to Goodwill.



Afterwards I felt cleansed.



They still have toys, but they are where they belong. They have a much larger collection of books than I thought. They each have about 500 pairs of socks and underwear. There are actual empty shelves. I got rid of so much garbage that there are shelves with nothing on them.



I spent a long time just hanging out in their room yesterday, because it is now the cleanest room in the house. I think I might just move in to their room.



I have overhauled their room and Reed's room. Next is ours.

I wave my arms, and swing my baton.

This last week, these last seven days, have been the hardest of my life. I do not exaggerate; I have never persevered so much rage, doubt, humiliation, self-hatred, sadness, impotence, and fear emanating from my own body in the entire 29 years of my existence as in this past week.

Now that this week is behind me I am ready to move on. Jason and I have all kinds of exciting ideas about vacations and jobs and loving each other. We are enjoying each other in ways that we have neglected for a long time (get your minds out of the gutter, kids), and I think if we can just focus on how important we are to each other, all the other bad stuff in our lives will seem less important by comparison.

My jewelry is officially for sale at Soca in downtown Homewood, and I'm working with Happi and hope to have my things for sale there as well. We're barreling towards August, when my jewelry will be featured in Lipstick Magazine, along with a nice article that I wrote about the fourth annual Birmingham Chicks Rockfest. Good things are happening, people.

Finally, an addendum to my prayer that I posted here a few weeks ago:

Please God, help me to be tactful, graceful, to remember who I am. Help me to hear Gordy Ramey saying it when I get lost. Help me to refrain from choking any bitches to within an inch of their lives. Help me to remember why it would be a bad idea to go to them with pictures of my children and ask them how much they enjoy toying with their happiness. Help me to be a lady, a sane lady, something with which I have absolutely no experience. Help me to take an awful situation and find and make the best use of all the good things that can come from it. Please God, help me to let it go like so much water off a duck's back. Help me to be sure, to stop questioning, to move forward hard and fast. Help me to start writing again at a time when all I can think to write about are things that I refuse to write about.

And God, please help my husband to remember that I am a crazy person, have always been a crazy person, was a crazy person when he met me. Help him to remember that I've never stopped loving him, even when I am at my most intolerable. What I'm saying is YOU'VE BOUGHT THE COW. NOW YOU HAVE TO LIE DOWN WITH IT IN YOUR MADE BED. What? Yes, that's what I mean.

My best impression of what will send me to an early grave:

"MONEY MONEY MONEY! I WANT SOME MONEY! GIVE ME SOME MONEY! YOU PAY FOR IT! I WON'T PAY FOR IT! WHY WOULD I PAY FOR IT WHEN I CAN JUST SIT HERE AND SAY THAT I WON'T?! I WANT TO NEVER SEE THEM AGAIN AND GET PAID FOR IT! YOU TAKE 'EM AND AS LONG AS YOU'RE COMING BY YOU CAN JUST DROP OFF THAT CHECK! WHY WOULD I PAY FOR THEIR CLOTHES OR SUPPLIES OR FOOD?! WHERE IS MY GOD-DAMNED MONEY?! I'M GOING TO GET THERE LATE BUT WHEN I PULL UP YOU HAVE MY MONEY READY! MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY!"