Wednesday, January 23, 2008

a post not about deployment

Cory and I had a strange conversation the other weekend, and I've been mulling over it intermittently since then, trying to figure out if there was a different, better way I could have handled it.

I don't even know how the topic got started, maybe we were discussing the election, but he said, "I'm not a racist, but..." and you just know that when someone adds that "but", you're not going to like what you're about to hear. Sure enough, he proceeds to tell me that he's squicked by black guys dating white girls, and also, as an aside, he's not tingly in his junk about gay guys kissing, but (and I quote) "lesbians are hot."

And I was just fucking floored. I've encountered people with these views on the internet, and simply written them off as douchebags, and all was once again well in my section of the world. So to have someone I know and like - someone I'm friends with - come out with something like this... Well, it makes me thankful that I've cultivated a good poker face.

My first thought was literally, oh my fucking cheese goddess, which should give you some indication of my mental capacity at the moment. Second thought?

"Why?" It slipped out before I could frame it any better, and he seemed kind of taken aback by it, like he'd expected me to just nod my head or something. He said that his dad is kind of a bigot, and it's just way he was raised, it was the attitude he grew up with, and this is where I cut him off to ask him why that meant it had to be his own attitude, too.

"Well, I don't know."

"That's not an answer. Why does some stranger just living their life bother you?"

"It doesn't, I just don't like seeing it, you know?"

"No, I don't. They're just people. Besides, I'd rather see two gay guys holding hands than some straight couple dry humping on a park bench."

"Yeah, but I just don't like it."

"But they're not doing it for your benefit."

This sparked a whole other discussion about discrimination, misogyny, mitochondrial DNA, genetics, fundamentalism, and racism (not necessarily in that order). As I'm sure you guessed, I did most of the talking, and he did most of the listening.

I'll give Cory some credit. As often as I challenge his beliefs about shit, he takes it well. We have a decent discussion and move on, and there's no hostility or harsh words. It makes me wonder if maybe he expects that from me, that I'm going to challenge his limited world view and make him think.

Maybe that's just narcissistic of me, though.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

emotions running high

I am so sick of talking about this deployment. Sick to death of it, but it's the only topic of discussion in my waking life, and so that inevitably carries over here.

Sid has been just a bit...paranoid. We have a friend, Cory, who comes over frequently to play video games with us - we bought Rock Band, and I for one love nothing so much as getting together to take on our rock personas, and our living room becomes a world where the only thing we have to worry about is a bad performance. Escapism at it's finest! Anyway, Sid's been pretty squicked about Cory lately, asking me "was he coming on to you?" Last night it was "do you like him?"

This pretty much how the conversation went:

"Do you like Cory?"

"Of course, he's our friend, isn't he?"

"No, that's not what I meant. I know..."

"Do I want to violently jump his bones?"

An uncomfortable silence, and then, "Yeah, pretty much."

And then I laughed like Lois from Family Guy, when Peter says something stupid: A chuckle, a snort, and then full blown laughter, followed by a choking incredulous, "What?"

He's understandably nervous about being away for so long, but my patience with this kind of paranoid obsession is pretty much non-existent. I haven't for one second forgotten how bad he got when he was in a-school; freaking out about me going to the local coffeehouse with Cory, to the point we had screaming matches on the phone, and I was certain he wouldn't be happy until I was a prisoner in this house. And I'm trying my best to give Sid all my understanding and love, which was all I wanted from him while he was away the last time, and something I felt I never got.

I'm trying. And I can tell that he is, too, this time. We've been through this enough times in the past that it's about damn time we got this right.

Friday, January 18, 2008

disgusted with myself

Miss P showed yesterday. And would you believe it, I cried?

Cried. All. Day. Long. Because apparently I am in massive denial. I tell myself that I'm not ready for a baby, this isn't the right time, this is not something I really want, and that way, when the disappointment hits, it's not so crushing.

I am totally, utterly disgusted with myself for blubbering like a wuss. It's not as if someone died. It's not as though I've actually lost anything or anyone. So why am I so fucking sad?

Maybe it's because I know this is something I can't have, now or maybe ever, and yet I can't let it go. I just can't. If the man who raped me is able to have a child with his (lovely, I'm sure) wife, to my mind, there's no reason under heaven that I shouldn't also have that privilege, and that happiness. If he can have it, why can't I?

Well, that's just base jealousy, and I'm not proud of it, but I'm going to call a spade a spade, here. I'm jealous. That man took so much from me, and I remember how I cried when I found out he'd gotten married. Not because I still loved him or anything so sick and twisted. No, it's just that that was what I wanted, that was my secret wish, to marry and have a family, and here I was, engaged to Sid, and it was like a slap in the face that that miserable excuse for a human being should have what I wanted, before I'd even had a crack at it. And I sound like some spoiled little brat.

You're probably thinking, starky, this isn't a race, and you'd be right. But I'm going to be totally honest with you, it absolutely feels like that asshole has stolen something vital from me, and I must do something to get it back, reclaim it. He took the things I wanted more than anything else and he made them his. Do you see what I mean? It feels as though everything is right in his life, and everything is wrong in mine.

And that's downright ungrateful and petty of me, because Sid tries his best to make me happy, and it's not his fault that I feel like something's missing. It shouldn't be his responsibility to fill the gaps left by someone else's stupidity and jealousy.

So buck up, starky, you silly cow. Nothing's going to change, because nothing can change, and you're being an ungrateful little bitch.

Thursday, January 17, 2008


I keep telling myself this is nothing to worry about. I'm late.


Stress will do it to ya, so I'm keeping my asshole crossed (don't even ask, it's an awful expression Sid and I use between each other). But when I count back the days, I just feel like screeching. It was supposed to have started on what day? The beginning of the month?!

And I am just totally in denial about it, because I feel all PMS-y, and I'm so sure every day when I wake up that today is totally going to be the day. And it isn't. And I didn't even really think about it that closely until this week.

This is bad. Baaad. Only with lots more a's. Now, you know that's just awful.

And I know, without a doubt, that the day I break down and pee on the stick and get that negative result will be the same day Miss P finally arrives. Because that's always how it works. She makes me waste my money and time and wee, and then shows up all "O HAY, I BET U WUZ W0NDERIN WHER I B!!!1!1!11!eleventyone". The bitch.

Just watch it be the real thing this time, though. Oh, that would be just my luck. Hey starky, you wanted a kid so badly, HERE YA GO! And Sid? Well, he'll be overseas. He gets the easy job. All you have to do, starky, is cook the kid and show up at the pier with it 10 months from now. Oh Siddy, what a homecomng, eh buddy?


I sort of casually mentioned to Sid the other day that I was still waiting on the bitch, and he gave me that squirrelly look and then laughed and said "oh, the little abortion that got away." We are such sick fucks.

Monday, January 14, 2008

time's winding down

With this deployment looming closer every day, things around here have been pretty strained. Sid gets clingy, and I can't stand that. I tend to withdraw, and I want him to leave me alone, as terrible as that might seem. But he won't, and his constant badgering is getting on my last damn nerve.

Today, he was supposed to have headed out for a few weeks of so-called training, but last night someone from his command called and said that the ship's staying dockside, so he's got all his stuff packed for nothing. I'm almost mad about it. I was so looking forward to being able to have some space for myself, and not have to worry about him following me around like a needy toddler. Well, it seems I'm not getting that reprieve. I'll just have to suck it up and deal until February.

He's been making stupid comments lately that just make me want to scream. Don't cheat on me while I'm gone probably tops the list of shriek-worthy sayings. Fuck! Who am I going to cheat on him with? My gay friend in Florida? (love you, hoor)

Oh yes, we'll be having hot cyber sex while Sid's away, we're just waiting for him to set foot on that boat so that we can get dirrrty.

I hate this wait. The weeks leading up to the deployment are the hardest part. Even harder than saying goodbye, in my opinion. How awful is it that I just want to see him gone so I can stop feeling like I'm walking on eggshells?

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

a rant about military life

My husband, who for the purposes of this blog will be referred to as "Sid" or "Mr Starky" (I'll explain why later) is gearing up for a deployment. I am not privy to the exact date of departure, but I've been led to believe it's sometime after Valentine's Day. Anyway, he got home last night, and immediately launched into a rant about how the deployment might be extended, and hate, and death, and sadness rain upon them forevermore, and so on and so forth.

Wait, what? Extended? Six months isn't long enough?

He tells me that they might be leaving early. They might be coming back late. As it was, they were supposed to be back sometime in the neighborhood of August. Now they may not get back until sometime in November.

November. That's ten months, people. The longest the military can legally hold them on that boat is thirteen months, and I would not be surprised to see them push it that far. The military has assraped us at every opportunity. "Accelerate your life" my eye. More like "bend over and grab your ankles."

Rather ungraciously, my first reaction was not "oh no, I won't see him for almost a year", it was "oh, thank god we decided to hold off on having a baby."

Anyway, did you know that the military doesn't like it's enlisted members having a MySpace account? I didn't know this. Apparently they're fed the line that "the terrists" (pronunciation courtesy of Bush Co.) can find them if they use MySpace. So, in case there are any "terrists" reading, I'll just refrain from posting my husband's name, 'kay? I know this isn't MySpace, but those terrists could be reading this! shock, horror

Monday, January 7, 2008

a new year, a new blog

The roof is leaking again in the attic. And we had called the landlady about it before Christmas, and she didn't get back with us until just yesterday. And that was only because we decided that we weren't going to pay the rent until she at least acknowledged this shitty roof. Well, the lack of checkage certainly got her attention, and she's coming over on Wednesday. We paid the rent, too, finally.

Anyone who knows me knows that this isn't the first time we've had problems with the roof leaking. At one point, it was so bad in the bathroom that if you had to use the toilet during a rainstorm, you had to hold a bucket over your head to keep the dirty water from splashing all over you. And if you've ever tried to hold a bucket over your head with one hand and wipe your ass with the other, you know it's a really awkward situation to be in. That whole section of roof had to be replaced, along with the ceiling (water damage had made it spongy). I'm hoping that something similar doesn't end up happening again.

Yesterday, while raking the asston of leaves out of the backyard, we saw a cat that looked suspiciously like our siamese. Turns out it was Knut. That bitch has learned how to open doors. I have trouble with doors sometimes, and I have opposable thumbs, so how this cat managed it, I'll never know. Crafty bitch. She should have been a monkey.