Tag Archives: friends

Catching up with The Apostle

Had this picture been made in 2014, I'm sure the artist would have included The Apostle I blog about today.

Had this picture been made in 2014, I’m sure the artist would have included The Apostle I blog about today.

Last night, The Auteur and I went to a surprise birthday party for my oldest longest-tenured friend in this world:  I’ll call him The Apostle.  I call him this not to be blasphemous or sarcastic, but because he has stronger religious convictions than anyone I’ve ever known.  I’ve known The Apostle since kindergarten.  We went to elementary, junior high and high school together.  We discovered girls together.  He was the best man at my wedding.

In an interesting aside, he met Jabba during his “born-again” phase.  When he learned about her religious beliefs, he told her to her face that everything he had ever heard had told him that she would go to Hell.

The Apostle’s wife, with some help from his sister and brother-in-law, put together a phenomenal birthday event.  It was at a banquet hall that was better suited to a wedding reception.  They had a few of his close friends give speeches about him and put together a video including greetings from some of his long-distance friends.  One of the speakers brought up a quote that he credited to the Apostle – though I have seen it used by others on the web:

Crave your future.

One of the things I really took from last night – and the birthday video in particular – was that The Apostle has truly made an impact on the lives of his family, friends and loved ones.  That famous Jackie Robinson quote ran through my head as I heard person after person sing the praises of The Apostle: “A life is not important except for the impact it has on other lives”.

Watching that video and processing all this information, I’m forced to wonder: what impact have I really made on the lives of others?  I know that it often takes time for a person to rebuild their life after a divorce.  Hell it has taken my brother and sister years to get themselves back to where they are now, but it’s more than that.  I need to be more involved – maybe even more active in my community.  I want to be more well-rounded.  I’m not saying that I want to be involved in a church like he is; I just want to feel like I make a difference in peoples’ lives.

I crave my future.  I obsess over it.  Sometimes I think so much about it, I don’t do enough to actually work toward it.  Everything I want is within my grasp:  my career, the woman of my dreams, my son, the future life that I’ve sought for the last two years – it’s all mine for the taking.  I just have to do it.

It’s funny, because The Apostle and I were SO very competitive growing up.  We used to push each other.  A lot.  At various times throughout our lives, I think we envied each other.  I haven’t seen the guy in 2 years – since our 20 year reunion – and  he’s pushing me once again.

somewhere between a death and a busboy

A random thought from the other day:

Several years back, I had gotten into doing the Windsor Pilates workout.  There was a bit where Mari Windsor is talking about exercises you glutious maximus (your butt) muscles and she says “Gotta make both cheeks even,”.  That stupid line has stuck with me for years.

Don’t worry I’m going somewhere with this…

I found myself saying that line out loud the other day, and I started to think about the last time I did that workout – during my Previous Life.  That got me thinking about Jabba and the fact that I don’t have any real memories of her and that kind of day-to-day stuff anymore.  It occurred to me:  I don’t really know her anymore.  That whole marriage experience has faded from memory.  It is simply a part of my THE past now.  This is one of the instances where I feel very fortunate to live as far from Jabba and The Kid as I do.  Out of sight, out of mind indeed.

This realization was very liberating for me, given how promising last week’s teacher fair was. I spoke with representatives from a school district just outside of Atlanta and they seemed very interested in me.  This got me very excited about the future:  with The Auteur, with 1B.  Being closer, but not too close, to The Kid.   In a place where The Auteur and I can BOTH pursue our professional goals.

It never ceases to amaze me the way that people just pass in and out of our lives.  I’m reminded of a line that Richard Dreyfuss says as The Writer in Stand By Me: “It happens sometimes.  Friends [sic] come in and out of our lives, like busboys in a restaurant”.  I’m not saying all of this because I miss Jabba.  God knows I don’t.  It’s just amazes me sometimes:  this human ability to have somebody so inextricably linked to you and your life one day, and through a relatively short amount of time, no longer be a factor.

Of course, I say all of this now, knowing that i’ll be bitching again when the time come for me to get The Kid for the summer and I have to deal with her all over again.

Some Kind of Monster – Part 2

The following is a re-telling of an event that occurred on the night of Saturday June 8th into the morning of Sunday June 9th 2013.  It is on a very short list of the most shameful experience of my life.  It has taken me literally two weeks to process everything that occurred, get multiple perspectives on the chain of events, mend the most essential fences and finally have the nerve to re-live it.  I chose to write this now because I realize that this blog may one day burn some bridges with it’s brutal honesty; and I want to show future readers that I am just as willing to hold myself to the same proverbial fires. 

Click HERE to read part one of this story.

Many of the details that follow from the bar I received second or third hand.  There are some things I do recall; I assume they occurred during my brief moments of clarity.  To paraphrase Prince: I was drunk when I lived this.  Forgive me as I went astray.

I remember all of us getting a round of drinks and me toasting the Auteur a “Happy Birthday”.  A little later – although it may have been during the same round – I remember one of the Auteur’s friends – whom I shall code name “The Set-Up” wanting a Jager, but not having any cash.  I apparently offered to buy her one – not really thinking anything of it – just extending an olive branch to one of the Auteur’s friends.  Apparently right around the same time that I was offering to but The Set-Up a drink, our waitress was coming around to collect on our round.  The waitress was giving me an opportunity to pay for The Auteur’s drink, but I was too fucked up to pick up on it until about the second or third time she said so.  The waitress took my money and gave The Auteur back hers as well.

After this point, I didn’t even know what happened to all the money I had on me.  Granted I was only carrying $40 or so, but STILL.  I had no recollection of who, where or what I spent my money on.  I’m starting to wonder if I didn’t give the waitress mentioned above an extra $20 on accident.  Something similar to this happened to me one night when I went out with a few friends from the Social Club; only that time I didn’t think much of it.

Throughout our evening at the bar, I made several trips to the bathroom.  This is not all that uncommon as I will typically visit a restroom at the slightest inclination my body has to urinate – drunk or sober – that’s how my body functions. Seeing how this was a bar and I had clearly had too much to drink already, one might assume that I was going to the bathroom to vomit.  This was not the case. I think that I experienced a few blackouts while I was in the bathroom.  I didn’t throw up and I didn’t pass out.  And yet, this was a case of something far more than just losing track of time.  An article on Wikipedia refers to this experience as  a fragmentary blackout or  a brownout.  Once again, it was only after I discussed the night with The Auteur that I realized what had happened.  Even now, over two weeks later, I have only vague recollections of standing at a bathroom stall for an excessive period of time.  If my stomach, liver or kidneys had refused to take part in this alcoholic decathlon I was subjecting them to, it might have been an easier night for me.  Instead, it was as if the booze had gone straight to my brain, literally.

Click HERE to read part three of this story

On the 14,245th day, I reflected.

I apologize in advance if this entry sounds like the liner notes to an album; but I think my heart is in the right place.

Yesterday, for those who haven’t picked up on my math skills, was my 39th birthday and this is the youngest I have felt in years.

To all my fellow divorcees who feel daunted by the prospect of “getting back out there”: Be confident, be strong, give it a chance. When you are single, ANYTHING is possible. I formulated this mindset before the STBX and I even split up and the universe has spent the last 9 months convincing me of this.  This may feel like the hardest time  of your life – and it may very well be – but when you reach your proverbial silver lining, you will be in a much better place. I am living proof of that.

I have discovered the value and importance of doing something completely new. For the last 5 months, I have been working out on a regular basis, which I have discovered to benefit far more than the act “lifting things up putting them back down repeatedly” would suggest. It has proved to be an excellent outlet for me in moments of frustration, self-loathing and anger. I find my body to be craving better food and drink and actually being disgusted by things I used to love (see: soda). Sure, I’m still carrying around a spare tire; but aside from my 2 years of high-school swimming, I am probably in the best shape of my life.

Endless thanks go out to my family and friends. the people who would literally lie down in traffic for me. You have all put your proverbial wagons in a circle when I needed you most. I am honored, not just call you my friends, but to know that people like you exist.

And to the new friends I have made along the way: kindred spirits who have been or are going through the same things that I am. To the new friends and more-than-friends I’ve made in the past year, I promise you: I am just getting started.

You all know who you are.

It is my sincerest hope to make this blog public and provide support for those who are undergoing the “addition-through-subtraction” that is divorce. If a dork like me can not only survive but even prosper in this, the new normal, then anybody can.

I stumbled across this picture a while back.  I know it’s about rebuilding run-down homes, but  I’ve decided to adopt it for rebuilding run-down spirits.

I'm taking "rebuilding" back!

I’m taking “rebuilding” back!

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