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…and into the fire?

natural-gas-flameThis is the second part of a two-part entry.  When I originally wrote part one, I had a decidedly different article in mind for part two.  Given today’s events, it seemed entirely appropriate to re-visit this entry.  Click HERE to read part one.

The Auteur and I were up late last night and in turn, slept in late today.  When i first checked my e-mail today I saw an e-mail from my attorney’s office.  The attachments on said e-mail included the final settlement to my divorce proceedings.

Maybe I should provide a little back-story before I go on my rant here:

One of the biggest hang-ups during these settlement negotiations – at least on my side thus far – has been a “personal loan” that Jabba had included and insisted that I pay back to her.  Now, admittedly, near the end of our marriage, there were a few bills that i asked her for assistance in paying.  These were utility payments – not credit cards or other personal bills that I had; household bills that we, as a married couple, were both getting use of.

Fast forward to Summer 2013 as we were inching toward an eventual court date.  Greenie asks me about this “personal loan”.  I explain to him that the amount Jabba and I agreed to was $583.00.  Again, I wasn’t crazy about it, but I was willing to cut my losses to move things along.  Greenie seemed surprised at the amount.  He told me that Jabba’s lawyer told her in was approximately $2000.00 – which, coincidentally, sounds to me like the amount of Jabba’s legal fees.  At this point, Greenie assured me that he would insist on paperwork to back up Jabba’s claim.

September 2013:  Our day in court.  I had planned on visiting and taking The Kid to Myrtle Beach when I received a summons to appear in court just before said visit.  The day I arrive in South Carolina, I get a call from Greenie claiming that he and Jabba’s lawyer have reached a settlement and our court appearance will now be for a final hearing.  He gives me a rough summary of the settlement over the phone.  I ask to see a copy of the settlement before going into court.  He gives me a story about how it hasn’t been written up yet, but it will be drawn up by Jabba’s lawyer.

We go into court, and I , essentially, lie under oath – telling the judge that I have read and agree to the terms of the settlement even though I have not seen the final agreement.  The judge declares the divorce to be official.  It is, literally, all over except for the paperwork.

Almost immediately upon leaving court, I begin pestering Greenie about seeing the final agreement.  He tells me that he doesn’t have it – as Jabba’s lawyer has to write up the actual language of it.

October 2013:  When I once again ask Greenie for the final agreement, he explains to me that it was sent on to the judge; but not to worry because we’ll have 10 days to review it once it comes back from him.

December 2, 2013:  I receive an a-mailed copy of the Final Order. It makes no mention of the few concessions I have asked for from Team Jabba.  Neither Greenie nor his paralegals will return my phone calls.

I am absolutely beside myself.  Jabba is about to get everything she wanted – and then some.  I’m about to get hosed.  I walked away with and am now getting nothing.  I’m not sure if I even have a leg to stand on, but I am considering filing a grievance with the state bar association for how ineffectively he has handled my divorce since day one.

I’ll save my rant on Christmas visitation for another post.

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Home is where you hang your hat.

Ahh, the wit and wisdom of Daniel LaRusso

Ahh, the wit and wisdom of Daniel LaRusso

After spending the last three weeks at The Auteur’s house, I’m back at my parents for a few days – as she is working nights and I have evening classes.  It’s a lot quieter here than I remember it being.

i love living with The Auteur, but it’s difficult in that I’m not working yet, there aren’t a lot of job opportunities and I don’t have a car.  It’s very frustrating.  in a lot of ways, I feel like I’m back to square one.  At the same time, I thought I’d be happy to be back at my parents’ house; i figured this would be an opportunity to tend to matters around the home front. But I miss The Auteur and 1B far more than I expected.  I really want to try and build for a life for myself – for us – there.

Truth be told, i’m starting to feel like the “man without a country”.  Don’t get me wrong, my parents’ house will always be home; but I am starting to feel a bit removed from it.  Furthermore, I’m not 100% past feeling like a guest at The Auteur’s house yet.  This is no fault of here:  she refers to things as “our house”  “our room” and “our car” but outside of her house, i don’t have a life in that area yet.

A big part of the reason i decided to move in with The Auteur was that I feel like i finally have a sense of direction in my life again.   Between her, school, my career – I feel like I finally know what i want out of life again

i’m close.  I’m really close.  i feel like I, like we, are on the cusp of greatness and i just need to keep pushing through.

Just because…

from http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/kanyewest/golddigger.html

Gold Digger
(feat. Jamie Foxx)

[Jamie Foxx]
She take my money when I’m in need
Yeah she’s a trifling friend indeed
Oh she’s a gold digger way over town
That dig’s on me

[Chorus:]
(She gives me money)
Now I ain’t sayin’ she a gold digger (When I’m in Need)
But she ain’t messin’ with no broke niggas
(She gives me money)
Now I ain’t sayin’ she a gold digger (When I’m in need)
But she ain’t messin’ with no broke niggas
Get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
Get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
Get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
Get down girl gone head

[Verse 1:]
Cutie the bomb
Met her at a beauty salon
With a baby Louis Vuitton
Under her underarm
She said I can tell you ROC
I can tell by your charm
Far as girls you got a flock
I can tell by your charm and your arm
but I’m looking for the one
have you seen her?
My psychic told me she have an ass like Serena
Trina, Jennifer Lopez, four kids
An I gotta take all they bad ass to show-biz
OK get your kids but then they got their friends
I pulled up in the Benz, they all got up in
We all went to Den and then I had to pay
If you fucking with this girl then you better be payed
You know why
It take too much to touch her
From what I heard she got a baby by Busta
My best friend say she use to fuck with Usher
I don’t care what none of you all say I still love her

[Chorus]

[Verse 2:]
18 years, 18 years
She got one of your kids got you for 18 years
I know somebody paying child support for one of his kids
His baby mamma’s car and crib is bigger than his
You will see him on TV any given Sunday
Win the Superbowl and drive off in a Hyundai
She was suppose to buy you shorty TYCO with your money
She went to the doctor got lypo with your money
She walking around looking like Michael with your money
Should of got that insured got GEICO for your money
If you ant no punk holla we want prenup
WE WANT PRENUP! Yeah
It’s something that you need to have
‘Cause when she leave yo ass she gone leave with half
18 years, 18 years
And on her 18th birthday he found out it wasn’t his

[Chorus]

[Verse 3:]
Now I ain’t saying you’re a gold digger you got needs
You don’t want your dude to smoke but he can’t buy weed
You got out to eat and he cant pay you all can’t leave
There’s dishes in the back, he gotta roll up his sleeves
But why you all washing watch him
He gone make it into a Benz out of that Datson
He got that ambition baby look in his eyes
This week he mopping floors next week it’s the fries
So, stick by his side
I know his dude’s balling but yeah that’s nice
And they gone keep calling and trying
But you stay right girl
But when you get on he leave your ass for a white girl

Get down girl go head get down
Get down girl go head get down
Get down girl go head get down
get down girl go head
(lemme hear that back)

The story so far…

When I wasn’t taking my impending separation well, my soon-to-be-ex-wife suggested that I start writing again.

Be careful what you wish for…

I’m 38 and the father of the greatest five-year old boy in the world.  Twenty-nine days ago  I moved out my house, leaving my son and my-soon-to-be-ex-wife (hereafter referred to as the STBX)  five states away and back in with my parents.  It was (and is) the only option I had (and have) available at the moment.

Thomas Wolfe was right when he said “you can’t go home again“.   I thought I’d be excited top be back in familiar surroundings, but it isn’t the same place anymore. So much of the area has built up in the last eight years, and so much of it was abandoned when the economy sank a few years back.  I used to know every single family who lived on my block.  Now I hardly recognize any of the houses, let alone the people who now live in them. A very bizarre sensation, but one I should have expected.

My immediate family has been great.  God bless ’em.  They have been the very model of unconditional love.  My brother and my Dad helped me pack my things and move back here.  My mother, unable to unable to make the trip herself, was here to welcome me with open arms when we got back.  My sister has proven once again to be a great friend, confidante and drinking partner.

A SIDE NOTE:  No matter how old you are, your parents will always treat you like you’re eight years old. At least the really good ones will.   Sure, it’s annoying at times but they mean well. Taking care of you is the mission with which they were charged when you were born.  It’s just in their DNA.

Getting back to me:  I think I’m adjusting to my new-old life fairly well. At times, I feel a little lost.  I’m currently not working, but my plan is to get back into school this fall to finish my Master’s degree.  I’ll probably have to move to wherever I can find a job, but ideally I’d like to be relatively close to my son.  I have no intention of becoming a “weekend and holiday dad”.  To her credit, my STBX and I have thus far remained “a united front” on all things pertaining to our son.

On a different topic:  my 20 year high school reunion is coming up.  I did not attend either my 5 or 10 year reunions but I’m excited about this one.  I did not particularly  enjoy my high school years, I’m curious to see some of my old classmates again. I blame Facebook for this change of heart.  When I got on there, I started friending people whom I went to school with but never talked to.  Social media really has changed our world.

ANOTHER SIDE NOTE: Anyone who tells you that high school is the best time of your life has never been to college.

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