
from Julian Blue at indigo jane:
I wanted to write something separate from the email about your latest post and not muddy that up with my own babbling.
Mellow? I had not thought you would be mellow. You seem to have so many ideas churning inside of you. But then, perhaps that’s how you are able to express yourself so well. You can focus and dig down deep…. My thinking is sort of like a cluster bomb. An idea goes off and a million pieces fly off of it, and I could really go anywhere with it. Some places I avoid going, as you’ve probably noticed. Sometimes the things I write about are a metaphor for the things I can’t say.
I can’t say what I really think of you. I don’t have the right to do that. I’m married, and I’ve committed myself to these two boys. (When I talk about walking the line, I’m talking about them, about wanting to do what’s right for them.) So, I am conflicted between something I would like to have for myself and what I want for my Jedi. This hasn’t happened to me before. I have always considered their needs and mine one and the same. Here, they seem to diverge. That throws me into a panic.
Your expressions of admiration and respect for me are heady things. And that it comes from you, someone of such depth and intelligence and insight and learning and just general…wonderfulness (I have a Master’s degree in English, remember? I can make up my own words. It’s in the contract)…, that’s just unbearable. (I can also make up my own sentence structure.)
See, I can never ever say anything serious without making a joke. In fact, the more serious the statement, the more likely I am to follow up with a joke.
Even though I’m limping along and I try to tell myself that maybe I can make this life work out for the sake of my Jedi, every new day reminds me that it’s futile. This is how life is around here: Late at night, he comes home from work. The Jedi and I are asleep. He goes down into the basement and lives his own life with his Xbox, music, computer, and who knows what else? He’s up until 4 or so in the morning. Three hours later, I’m up with the Jedi. I have to constantly shush them and try to keep them quiet so he can sleep or he’ll get up and start screaming at everybody. So, I find myself being short with my kids. This morning, I slapped Obi-wan on the head. Not hard, but it’s still not right. On days when I have to be in class, he has to get up with them, and he’s so tired and crabby, I know he rides their asses all morning and sends them off to school miserable. He is constantly on them, on me, screaming, picking, yelling…. He’s not happy, either. But when I try to talk to him about alternatives, he acts like I’m overreacting, he says the kids are horrible and need discipline (they’re boys, but most people think they’re good kids), I’m horrible, and he’s not going anywhere, this is his family, his house and all that. He’s getting worse. On weekends, he’s just on a rant all day. He spoils every outing, every meal, everything with his anger and temper and relentless bitching.
So, this can’t go on forever. I guess I want you to know how things so you’ll know I’m not a bad person or deceitful by nature. I just suddenly want more, and I know when the horse is dead, at some point you have to get the fuck off. I guess I’m thinking if I can maybe jump start that stupid horse, I can get a little more mileage out of it, just long enough to make life more secure for my Jedi.
Part of me wants to tell you how much your emails mean to me. You are the only person who seems to see me as I really am. Or cares to. And I just enjoy you as a person. But it is NOT fair to you for me to try to draw you into my life because you deserve better and could do better in life.
I wanted to write something separate from the email about your latest post and not muddy that up with my own babbling.
Mellow? I had not thought you would be mellow. You seem to have so many ideas churning inside of you. But then, perhaps that’s how you are able to express yourself so well. You can focus and dig down deep…. My thinking is sort of like a cluster bomb. An idea goes off and a million pieces fly off of it, and I could really go anywhere with it. Some places I avoid going, as you’ve probably noticed. Sometimes the things I write about are a metaphor for the things I can’t say.
I can’t say what I really think of you. I don’t have the right to do that. I’m married, and I’ve committed myself to these two boys. (When I talk about walking the line, I’m talking about them, about wanting to do what’s right for them.) So, I am conflicted between something I would like to have for myself and what I want for my Jedi. This hasn’t happened to me before. I have always considered their needs and mine one and the same. Here, they seem to diverge. That throws me into a panic.
Your expressions of admiration and respect for me are heady things. And that it comes from you, someone of such depth and intelligence and insight and learning and just general…wonderfulness (I have a Master’s degree in English, remember? I can make up my own words. It’s in the contract)…, that’s just unbearable. (I can also make up my own sentence structure.)
See, I can never ever say anything serious without making a joke. In fact, the more serious the statement, the more likely I am to follow up with a joke.
Even though I’m limping along and I try to tell myself that maybe I can make this life work out for the sake of my Jedi, every new day reminds me that it’s futile. This is how life is around here: Late at night, he comes home from work. The Jedi and I are asleep. He goes down into the basement and lives his own life with his Xbox, music, computer, and who knows what else? He’s up until 4 or so in the morning. Three hours later, I’m up with the Jedi. I have to constantly shush them and try to keep them quiet so he can sleep or he’ll get up and start screaming at everybody. So, I find myself being short with my kids. This morning, I slapped Obi-wan on the head. Not hard, but it’s still not right. On days when I have to be in class, he has to get up with them, and he’s so tired and crabby, I know he rides their asses all morning and sends them off to school miserable. He is constantly on them, on me, screaming, picking, yelling…. He’s not happy, either. But when I try to talk to him about alternatives, he acts like I’m overreacting, he says the kids are horrible and need discipline (they’re boys, but most people think they’re good kids), I’m horrible, and he’s not going anywhere, this is his family, his house and all that. He’s getting worse. On weekends, he’s just on a rant all day. He spoils every outing, every meal, everything with his anger and temper and relentless bitching.
So, this can’t go on forever. I guess I want you to know how things so you’ll know I’m not a bad person or deceitful by nature. I just suddenly want more, and I know when the horse is dead, at some point you have to get the fuck off. I guess I’m thinking if I can maybe jump start that stupid horse, I can get a little more mileage out of it, just long enough to make life more secure for my Jedi.
Part of me wants to tell you how much your emails mean to me. You are the only person who seems to see me as I really am. Or cares to. And I just enjoy you as a person. But it is NOT fair to you for me to try to draw you into my life because you deserve better and could do better in life.














