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This is my blog. I just went through a divorce; it was the worst thing that has yet to happen to me. This is me dealing with it and life. It's my blog; I write about what I want. I hope you enjoy. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The above was me about three years ago. It is the most up to date digital photo I have.
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| Yesterday, I went home from work. My lawn was a green mess. It has been a while since I have given it a haircut. I am pretty sure I heard a miniature lion give a small roar from the jungle of my front yard. Work was stressful and boring at the same time. Money issues keep popping up, even though I get paid tomorrow. So, I just needed a small break from life. Mowing my lawn is a break from life. I have a rickety old mower that vibrates very badly. It sputters and dies quite often. I love it, though. My hands hurt when I am done mowing, and they tingle like someone is stabbing them with tiny pins. Last night was a good night, though. The mower did not die once. I love being outside underneath the blue sky. The sun is there cheering me on as I push the old horse around the lawn. Mr. breeze did not show up yesterday, though. I like to mow my lawn in three sections because I am an engineer. I like things in neat little geometric shapes. So, two rectangles and an L shape make up my lawn. Also, if I mow in three sections, the cats can easily follow me around the house. The neighbor kids are playing out in the street. Catch is the game of this month on my streets. While I am mowing in the eastward direction, I can watch the different games they play while throwing the ball. Straight up in the air, long catch, sprinting catch and ground ball returns were the games of choice last night. When I finished, I put everything away. I grabbed a beer and sat on my front step. My lawn is beautiful when I finish mowing it. So, I sat and enjoyed a cold beer wishing I could mow it again because now I have to get back to life. But the strange thing is that all those things that worried me before the roar of that little engine don't bother me as much. This is another lesson that this divorce is teaching me. It sucks to be going through this divorce, but I have learned so much about myself. I am a better person because of my divorce. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt when I said this the first time. I love stress because it causes me to rise to a challenge, but when the stress gets overwhelming, a distraction, an escape, lowers those stress levels enough to get back to life. I am in emotional hell and having the time of my life. Strange, huh? I have good and bad days, but I am learning that what I know of life could fill a thimble that was packed with dirt. I am learning that life is about waking up each day and trying my best. I will strive towards my dream and work on my goals. And, for now, when life gets too tough, I will go out mow my yard or plant some new flowers. I will take a break from my life to care for my jungle. |
| Stress is a great thing. It challenges me to rise up and solve whatever problem is causing my stress. I deal with stress in various and sundry ways from cutting vegetables to lying perfectly still for as long as I can. No, not sleeping, lying still and counting my breaths, one on the inhalation, two on the exhalation. It is a great exercise, and if I can focus on counting, one, two, one, two, it relaxs me and lets the stress just fall off. The hard part is focusing. I think that I have grown into ADD and dyslexia. When I was younger, I could sit for hours upon end reading or drawing. I would not move for anything, and I used to be so focused that my parents would have to tap me on the shoulder before they began speaking (usually, yelling because I am not paying any attention to them). Now, I sit down to read, and I can barely get a sentence done before I am looking out the window, checking on the cats, or paying more attention to driving. This lack of focus might exacerbate my dyslexia, too. I can read stuff just fine, but I have discovered that I think backwards. It is really start to bug me. I will find myself reading a sentence of something out loud, only when I read it aloud, the last word is spoken first. It is a mild irritant that if I remain slow and calm, I can keep it out of my speech. It doesn't happen all the time, but it happens more with each passing year. Of course, it could also be too much caffeine. I have been a desk jockey for the past couple of years. During that time, I found that coffee tastes like toast that was burnt before being set on fire. I cannot stay awake without my caffeine, so I turned to Diet Mountain Dew. I have anywhere from 0 to 52 ounces in a day. I am averaging 40 ounces of Dew a day. (Also, I am averaging 6 minutes of brushing my teeth twice a day and am giving thought to maybe a third brushing to deal with the sugars.) I am not jittery or shaking. I am not irritable (unless you ask the soon to be ex wife), and I don't have trouble sleeping. So, maybe it is coming out in the form of ADD. Although, I have yet to have my morning Dew, I have had to bring my focus back to writing this four times already. That is why I like stress. It seems to focus me after I get done worrying about the consequences. Stress seems to give me tunnel vision. I see the thorn in my paw and the thorn only. So, while I am not asking for any more life changing events so that I can rise to meet new challenges, I find that the stress of small challenges (will I tie my shoes correctly? Just kidding.) can focus me into being a semi-functioning slob. Isn't that what we are all striving for? No? Damn. Grifter |
| Sometimes, I feel that my life is way too overcomplicated. Having a job, owning a home and having to pay bills can be complicated enough. However, in my social and private life, I wonder if I get way too complicated. I have been giving thought to this for a month or so now; is it time to simplify my life? My job is complicated, and it takes up most of my time. I work 5 days a week, 6:30 - 3:00 most days. Now that overtime is being ramped up, I work three ten hour days and three 8 hour days. This past Saturday, I only worked four hours due to burnout. I went swimming to unwind, and it helped immensely. I swam with a friend and got some sun. The stress washed off my body with the pool water while I dried underneath the big star in the sky. It was so peaceful and relaxing because the birds were chirping. Kids were laughing and splashing. A light breeze wound through the pool deck making it cold when you got out of the water but cooled off the sunbathers. It wasn't a home theater system or a video game that let me wind down. It was the warm embrace of the sun and the cool caress of the water. It was simple and elegant. Grifter |
| After I finish my overtime, today. I am going to go swimming. Now that I am in a Big, Bad City, I have to go swimming at pools or apartment complexes. When I was a country boy, we would go out to a lake or a creek. The pools are cleaner, but the creeks and lakes were always more fun. Rope swings, swimming against the current and diving to the bottoms of the lake so I could throw mud at my friends were all the fun, stupid things we would do. Now, I have to bring toys to the pool. Floaty foam and water guns make the pool experience enjoyable, but I will always miss swinging off a tree out over a cold stream. I would let go and spent a few seconds falling, freezing on the way into the water. I never gave thought to getting hurt; although, occasionally, we did. I know that I am not quite old enough yet to be spouting off about the good, old days. I just miss those times. They seemed simpler. I was never sucking in my guy to impress the bronze girl in a bikini. I didn't have to worry about backing into an overweight gentlemen who is covered in hair as if he is half bear. No little kids were screaming or crying because Mom didn't bring their water toy. But, today, I will suck in my guy, jump into the clear, cool water and have a great time. I will stare a little too long at the bikini girl, and I will bump into the half bear, accidentally, while playing catch. I will swim and play like I am twelve again because I have the opportunity. I will dry off and head home a little bit tired but happy. I will remember the bygone days of my childhood and smile because it is a beautiful day to be outside...at a pool or an old fashioned, back woods swimming hole. |
Well, I have something to say, again. So, Episode Four will be posted today when I get a break here
* * * Aren't lifes little ironies great? The Big Mac is one of the tastiest, fastest foods that could ever kill me. The biggest use of my time, work, isn't the most fun thing I could be doing, but if I sat around all day eating, reading, watching t.v., going around art museums, sexing up beautiful women and playing video games, I would not have money for doing any of that. The woman that I love more than anything in the world, who has been my closest and best friend, is the same woman that I can never, ever have anything beyond friendship. Ahh, the ironies of life are comic, and it makes you appreciate life just that much more. I love food. I am a decent cook, but I am a better griller. I do a great filet mignon (when I can afford them). I could eat a filet every night of the week (if I had money to waste), and I would be happy and on my way to many a heart attack. My wife is a great cook; she just doesn't like to do it. When she does cook, though, I could eat and eat and eat until my stomach burst like in that Monty Python skit. I have to laugh at the joy of life that the foods that taste so good drag me just that much closer to the grave. I have a story that I outlined and am super excited about fleshing out. But, Mr. Irony had to step in and put on the writer's block. It is the worst kind of writer's block that I have ever experienced. It isn't the kind where I can't write. It is a different story that I want to tell instead of the one that I just outlined. I outlined a thriller, and I can't find a place to start with the detail writing and descriptions. I mulled over where to begin and how to begin for a couple days when...boom, a detective story came out. It is completely different, and when I try to start on the other outline, a new piece of the detective story comes out. I set pen to paper to write on my thriller, but somewhere between brain and pen, the detective story hijacks my nerve impulses and throws the other story out of the way. I am happy that I am, at least, writing, but I want to finish that other story. I have the bad habit of starting stories and not finishing them. But I put the outline down, and this detective story comes out. Maybe I should finish the detective story and head back to the other one. The final irony that I want to speak about is exercise. I have said before that I hate to exercise. I hate it until I am done. Then afterwards, I feel great and think maybe I should do more. I never do because I am usually bone weary from the first go 'round. However, it brings a smile to my face to know that the next time I want to exercise, I will balk and moan. I will find other things to do, excuses why I shouldn't. Then I will exercise and feel great about it until I have to do it again. I guess that is why life is worth living, though. There is always a new irony to be found. Because in these ironies, I find that God has a sense of humor. I want to see where else there are ironies. Like the old man in the flashy sports car. I could have met a lot of girls when I was younger if I had owned a BMW. I just couldn't afford a BMW. When I will be able to afford it, if I pick up young girls, I won't be a stud like I could have been. I will be a dirty, old man. The irony is that I will be able to afford the sex machine when I am least able to use it. You gotta smile at that. Grifter |
| "Did you say ex-lover?" I asked. My palms got sweaty, and my vision blurred. I have never met a bisexual woman. I have met my fair share of lesbians but never a bi-sexual woman. She burst out laughing. She put her hand to her face to cover her mouth. She rocked back and forth in the little chair. "You men disgust me," she said between chuckles. "What is it with the whole bisexual thing? Your eyes just about flew out of your head. Dan's new sex toy used to dance at the club with me. We would tell the idiots in the audience that we were lovers, and the cash would fly. We could pick up a hundred or two if we danced on stage together for one dance!!! Mr. Mohegan, I am as straight as an arrow; even though in your fantasies tonight, I won't be." Was it getting hot in here or just me? Yeah, in my fantasy, she would be joined by one...maybe two of her friends. Back to business, Mohegan. This is a job...be professional. "Something wrong, Mr. Mohegan?" Gina asked. "No, you just got me good there. I was taking a moment to regroup my thoughts. You know...seem like a professional," I said. I wondered how stable this woman was. She was crying over her husband raping her one moment, then rolling on the floor laughing the next. Maybe it was a woman thing. I have had so few women in my life that I knew next to nothing about them. They might as well have been aliens for all I knew. One night stands with revenge minded clients tends to be my only action. "You aren't very good with the ladies; are you, Mr. Mohegan?" "Ahh...no. Obvious is it?" I asked. "Well, I have been here for an hour, and you have yet to offer me a drink. I was crying, and you offered no comfort. Of course, in your line of work, you are probably immune to other people's suffering," she said. "Gina, I got tap water and whiskey. Would you like something to drink?" "Ugh, no, thanks, though." "What hotel did you say that they were staying at?" I asked. "The Hilton, downtown. I couldn't go any further. He has left me alone since the incident with the...since the incident. If I caught him, well, I am afraid that his temper would come back. Only this time, he wouldn't stop hitting until I was dead," she whimpered. "Well, we don't want that. Look you are paying me well to get proof for you. Is there a place you can go to stay away from him for a couple of weeks? You need to be safe, and if I find the proof, he can't hurt you if you are gone," I said. "Yes, I will make an annual trip to a day spa. I will make arrangements and leave the day after tomorrow," she said. I took down the details of how to get ahold of her. She got up to leave, and at the door, she looked back over her shoulder at me. She blew me a kiss. After a small pause, she started laughing and walked out the door. A quick search of the internet listed Dan Walker as owner of Walker Real Properties. He owned property all over the city, and it was mixed between private rentals, rehabs and commercial rentals. In the past six months, his property on the south side of town was dropping in value. He was selling them for way below the retail price listed on the website. "Shit," I said to no one. "The fucking mob. I hate dealing with these guys." Dan must have got himself in gambling problems. Because why else would he sell a four hundred thousand dollar property for half of that? That same property was then sold for the full price by another company, Sunshine Real Estate. Digging into Sunshine Real Estate was easy. It was a company owned by a larger company, Livingston Investments. Livingston Investments was owned by Ronald Jacob Livingston. Ronnie-boy has been up on racketeering charges and other assorted charges so many times that he might as well have his own section in the paper. I knew Ron personally. He was my roommate for my first and only year of college. He was a nice enough guy until he got a job as a host at the Southside Casino and Lounge. It was a small outfit that catered to locals. At the end of the first year, he was getting scarier by the day. He had been promoted to floor manager in the three months he worked there. His knuckles were continually cut up and bruised. One night, I came home from the bars, and Ron was changing shirts. He had a big patch of gauze on his right side. Blood soaked through the gauze, and Ron was moving slow. It must have hurt. I closed the door and left as quietly as possible. We run into each other now and again. It happens in my business. You met everybody, and you have to learn to work your way around the powers that be. Not all of those powers are cops, either. I put on my coat, and I headed out the door. Ronnie had an office on the south side. It was time to go see him. I left the gun in my drawer because when one goes to see the most dangerous man in town, one takes along nothing to provoke him. Last time, I saw Ronnie, he told me that if he ever saw me again, he would kill me. I think he was joking, but one can never be too sure. But if I was going to investigate anything related to Livingston Investments, I had better get permission first. Grifter |
| "Mr. Mohegan..." "Sorry, I must have spaced out," I said. "Please, continue." "Dan's father set up a real estate company back in the 50's. His father managed it and grew it to a multi-million dollar business. Dan inherited it fully in the early 90's. He sold all of the out of state property and put that into the dot com boom. I met him in '98," she said. "Go on," I urged. "I was a stripper. I worked at the First Class Club on the East Side," she said. "Wow, swanky. I went in there, once. I couldn't afford the water in the place," I said. "Yeah, name a CEO in this town, and I have given him a lap dance. It was good money...damn, good money. I am not ashamed of my past, but no way in hell am I ever going to do that again. I am too old to be up on stage now, and I wouldn't make the money I used to. I won't name names, but the fun ended for me one night when a Senator offered me a $1,000 for sex. When I said no, he hit me. The club security didn't do anything about it," she said. Tears welled up in her eyes. It was close to a decade ago, and it still broke her heart. That is the problem with my job, though, I see so many broken hearts that one more sob story just goes on the pile. Until they actually cry, that is. I hoped those tears wouldn't fall because if they did, I was a goner. As long as she held them back, I could maintain the illusion of hard boiled, callousness that I have been cultivating. "Most places that I have been to...that guy would have been kicked out the door," I said. "Not when you're a Senator. You do what you want. Anyways, after that, I was looking for any way out. I get asked out a lot by my customers...well, used to. I never accepted, but after my recovery from the black eyes, I was feeling so low. Dan asked me out after his lap dance, and I said yes," she said. Her lips twitched upward, and she looked down. She was trying to hide her good memory from me. I see this a lot, too. The problem with people in Gina's situation is that they tend to idealize the person by forgetting all the bad. "When did he first cheat on ya?" I asked. "I am getting to that. Hold your horses. Well, we dated, and we hit it off. Six months later, we were married. I signed a pre-nup that says I get so much financial support depending on how long we stay together. If the marriage ends due to infidelity on his part, the pre-nup is void, and I can go after all his assets. At least, that is what my lawyer says. "Anyways, last year, he started losing money at the casino. He thinks I don't know, but I saw the withdraw slips from the bank. He came home, drunk one night and picked me up. He carried me upstairs over his shoulder, and we had the best sex in our entire marriage," she said. "The next night, I was sick. I ate something bad for lunch and spent the afternoon puking. When Dan got home, he picked me up again. I told him to put me down, but he didn't listen. He threw me down on the bed and...he..." she said. She blew out all the air in her lungs and looked to the wall. Those sky blue eyes were getting cloudy. The waterworks was coming. I got out a box of tissues and passed them to her. Ain't I just a sweetie? "He raped me. I kept shouting...no, stop...please, stop..." The storm arrived. She cried and cried. I sat awkwardly behind my desk. Should I comfort her? It doesn't sound like a man's touch is what she needs now. Stop thinking about the tears. You can't get caught up in the tears like last time. You just got back from hiding out in Canada because of the last gal's tears. "He proceeded to come home every night and rape me like that. One night, I fought back. I slapped him, and he just beat the fuck out of me. I am sorry for cussing. I shouldn't..." she sobbed. "You got nothing to apologize for," I said. "Did you call the police? Did you ever file a report?" "No, I was embarrassed. I didn't really think the cops would do anything. We are married." "Okay, so go on..." I urged. "About eight months ago, when he came home, I hit him with a bat. I broke two ribs and his jaw before the doorbell stopped me. I came close to killing him. The only thing that stopped me was a delivery guy. Dan had ordered me flowers. How is that for ironic? When he got out of the hospital, we never said a word about it. It was strange. He started working later and later, and he went to the casino more and more," she said. "So, why do you think he is cheating on you?" I asked. "I followed him one night from work. He didn't see me. He went to a hotel where he met my ex-girlfriend," she said. "So, he is dating one of your friends, the bastard," I said. "No, he is sleeping with one of my ex-lovers," she said. Grifter |
| She handed me the check for my retainer. Her fingernails were manicured and painted Candy Apple Red just like the '67 Mustang she drove here. Here arms were tanned a golden brown that comes from hours underneath the sun, and those arms were toned and tight from too much exercise. She was a blonde with eyes as blue as the summer sky. Her hair was cut short and made a J curl into her jawline. The neck on this gal would make a vampire drool, and I guessed it would take me three or four kisses to get from her lips down her neck to her shoulder. The biege top she wore was low cut enough to be sexy without screaming put your dollar bills here. Sitting down across my desk from me, her skirt was just off the knee. Her firm legs were crossed, and her left foot bounced making the heel of her shoes click against her foot. She was sexy in a classy way. This woman didn't go in for full on slut like most fashions these days. She could have been a film star from Hollywood's Golden Age. She worked hard on her looks and took pride in her effort. "Well, Mr. Mohegan, will you find my husband?" she asked. Of course, I would. I just got back from laying low in Canada and needed the money. I, also, needed to see what kind of schmuck ran out on a gal like this. She even had the smoky voice of my dreams. A.A.W.D. Investigations had a new case, and the sizeable retainer she had given me meant I had a lot of work to do. "Okay, let's get started, then. Why would he leave?" I asked. "A younger woman, of course," she replied. "Ahh, then why don't you just divorce him?" I asked. "If the marriage ends due to infidelity on his part, the prenuptial agreement is null and void. I would have legal right to half of his real estate empire. I need proof that he is cheating. If there is no proof, then he can divorce me. I have no skills Mr. Mohegan. I would have to go back to stripping, and I can't do that anymore. I would rather die than go back to that," she started to cry. That was the final nail in the coffin. I couldn't stand it when a pretty girl started to cry. Especially when that pretty girl could be partial owner of a real estate empire. I needed money, and a beautiful woman was crying. It seemed like an easy case of catch the cheater, and like every other time I took a case like, the tears made me forget the last time an angry husband shoved a gun in my face. "Well, Gina, let's find you the proof you need." Grifter |
| Yesterday was the laziest day for me since I stopped wearing diapers. I slept in because I am starting my summer of six day work weeks. My goal this summer is to cram 55 hours in 6 days. It shouldn't be too hard. Well, I woke up, and the sun was shining down. The birds were chirping, and the alarm read 8:00 am. So, I thought about what a beautiful day it was. I needed to paint the basement, play with the kitties, do dishes, pay bills, write and go for a run. Then, I thought...I think way too much and rolled over back to sleep. After realizing that I had no breakfast in the house, I picked up my late library book and headed out to greet the world. On the way to the library, I got into a philosophical argument with myself about whether Taco Bell or McDonald's would win a fast food war. The Big Mac could be deadly, but any restaurant with hot sauce and refried beans has the edge in my opinion. So, hungry for Taco Bell, now, I picked up breakfast and went home. I sat in my comfy chair watching a rerun of Frazier. I didn't move from that chair for like another hour and a half. I was working. My Tivo needed cleaning really badly, so I cleaned it...by watching anything on it. I read a little, and I wrote a little. I did some dishes, and I cleaned up after my cats. At one point during the day, they pinned me down in my chair and forced me to take a nap with them. They are quite demanding sometimes. Yesterday was a day about not doing things. I didn't work on myself, and I didn't think of my ex. I had one day where money wasn't an issue. Work didn't crowd into my personal life. No thought was given to where I have been, where I am or where I am going. No thought was really evident yesterday. It was the happiest day that I have had since my wedding day. That sounds pathetic, but it is true. I was okay with me. No one was yelling at me, and I had no worries. That last time that I had no worries was my wedding day. Sunday was a day of letting go of stress. I have to say it worked. I am looking forward to work today, and I am ready to get back into it. I have to jog tonight, or my legs are going to kick my ass. (They have a standing feud. It is best to just not get in the way.) I am ready to face the every day doldrums of life. I look forward to them. It may have been the laziest day I have had in a while, or it might have been a day to recharge the batteries. Whatever it was, I am grateful for it. I always loved the phrase stop and smell the roses. Yesterday, I did, and it made a huge difference. |
| As part of my path to healing, I have been looking a lot at my life. I have looked at the decisions that I have made and why I made them. I have looked at who I am and who I want to be. I have been trying to find the bridges between the two. Writing, as I have previously blogged, has been a big part of that. However, the part that is hardest is liking myself. I don't like myself. I have let myself be talked out of some important decisions in my life and have compromised my integrity by not making those decisions. I have also bought into some very negative things that past associations have said about me. I have also let the things that are important to me die. I am focused way too much on money right now, and I have not accomplished anything worthwhile. I don't like these things about myself, and I have beat myself up about them for far too long now. My therapist reinforces that I have to think well of myself. I cannot change the two decisions that haunt me to this day. I am in the process of making peace with them and putting them to bed. However, for them to rest in peace, I cannot forget the lesson they have been whispering for all these years. The things that have been and are said about me have no bearing on who I am. When I was younger, I understood this. Somewhere along the way, I lost track of this. I think it was about the time I started looking for jobs. I needed to care about what people thought about me. First, though, I need to care what I think about me. I am an okay guy most of the time. I still feel that I haven't accomplished anything in my life. I have a master's degree in Aerospace Engineering and work for one of the best companies in the world. I think this comes from the fact that college was easy for me. I am not trying to brag, but engineering in college was easy for me. I knew people in college who struggled through every class, and they seem to appreciate their degrees and jobs much more than I do now. My job is challenging at times. I have to learn to apply the right knowledge in the right place. Occasionally, I learn here at work. Most days, it is not a challenge, though. I have wrote that I don't have purpose in my life, and I have also wrote that I have a new dream. I still don't have meaning for my life yet, but maybe my search for meaning is really a search for an accomplishment of which I can be proud. Or, maybe, I should value what I have done more. I have started to look at my life as a good meal. I am done with the appetizer, and the main course has just started. Writing is the spice that brings out the flavor of main ingredient. I just wish I knew what the main ingredient is. |
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