Mr. Bennington

It's been awhile, for this blog, anyway.

Nobody visits here (or has a reason to), but just in case someone should happen along, I'm promoting Search with Chester Bennington, because I deserve some swag! And so do you! Besides, Mr. Bennington is a sexy, sexy man and his music absolutely rocks.

Go ahead and check it out :)

Sunshine & Lollipops

Well, it's been awhile, but I never promised I'd be dependable with this blog thing. This is the way my life goes.

It's been several months since the last entry and, of course, a lot has happened since then. She left, we moved, I got fatter. At least some aspects are constant.

While I would love to spend an entire post on what went wrong - or right - these past months, I would prefer to just vent. Because that's what this fucking blog is for, no?

As always, I have come to see changes around me and how they affect me. It's odd, I think, the way the weather affects my emotional well-being. When fall hits, I am calmed by the weather, not too hot, not too cold and the changing leaves have a peaceful tone to them. However, by the time winter rolls around I want to kill someone, anyone, including myself. I cannot stand the dark, dreary days of winter, the stark, cold temperatures and the short, brittle days. It makes me want to claw all my skin off. I despise the winter.

Last winter was extra-special because we here in the greater Niagara area got a prequel in the form of a freak snowstorm that blasted us with nearly 2.5 feet of snow, causing trees to snap like twigs and our mayor to declare a State of Emergency. This all on my 36th birthday. Woo.

At the time, it was "neat", insofar that Josh and I had never experienced a snowstorm together. Me, I grew up with them but that doesn't mean that I like them. Hell fucking no.

By January I was fit to be tied, but we were moving, so that was at least something to look forward to....until February, when we moved in, yep, a snowstorm.

I don't think I have yearned so much for California as I have this past winter season, and honestly, I don't think I can handle another winter. I want foggy, lukewarm winters. I want to look outside on Christmas Eve and see a field of green. I want to be able to wear my spring jacket in February and I want to sweat my ass off in August. And I want it now.

Today is gorgeous day, sunshine, warmish weather....hopefully that means spring is on the way. It's days like this that actually give me some hope, that I can do all those seemingly impossible tasks that seem to overwhelm me. It makes me want to actually believe in myself.

It was about this time last year that I started walking. I amazed even myself. I was out there, MP3 player helping to pump my adrenaline, actually loving being outside and feeling, for once in my life, healthy. And, by god, I lost weight. And then, as fast as that euphoria started, it ended, and I just....stopped. No more walking. No more feeling great. Summer gave way to fall and before I knew it, I was eating chocolate like it was my only salvation. Oh, the irony.

Last week I bought a pair of capris to wear at work, seeing that it's gotten quite humid in the lab. I pulled them off the rack, paid and didn't give it a second thought. Until I got home. And they barely fit.

I sunk into a mini-depression, lasting the weekend. I wanted to bury myself, truly. I wanted to feel sorry for myself, hate myself, drown in my sorrow, be so EMO it hurt. But I just couldn't. I thought about how far I had come over the past year..... how great I felt last summer ..... and I knew I could do it again.

So, this is my testament that I have turned over yet another new leaf, wary of what's there but anxious to find out.

Afterall, I'm too young to be another fat chick.

Taint

It wasn't my goal, in the beginning, to become a reader of her blog, but it happened anyway. When she confessed to my husband of some highly inappropriate goings-on in a manager's office, my interest was piqued. That she refused to acknowledge it beyond her "confession" to my husband was enough to implicate guilt. Of course, she doesn't see it that way.

I am a stupid woman. I let my emotions run me, wear me down, consume me. I know better, yet I keep at it until there's nothing left.

Why do we keep running until we hit that proverbial brick wall? Why can't some of us just stop what we're doing, realize that the impact is going to hurt, and turn around?

There are qualities to my character that I didn't want to admit to but this experience with my marriage has taught me that I cannot escape the inevitable.

Do I wish wrong on those who have wronged me? Absolutely. Does that make me a horrible person? Probably. Am I the only person to ever want vengeance upon another human soul? Not in a million years.

What really angers me is her denial that she did anything wrong; it's one of my buttons, my pet peeves, my nails on the chalkboard. How she can write about her life, admitting to some very fucked up transgressions and then blame another person absolutely pisses me off. However, as much as I want to be able to control this situation, I never will.

She recently wrote that she wanted my boss, sexually, that she wanted to absolutely consume him. Her veiled blog entry was completely transparent; it would only take basic knowledge from reading her blog to know what situation she was talking about. When I saw her in the store flirting with my boss, I wanted to scream. Why do I fucking care? Because it's my work, I have to look at this man and respect him and it's extremely hard to do that when there's a woman whoring herself quite publicly to him. So I was not surprised to read her posts following that visit:

......want to fuck him. I want to screw him in whatever way I can. I want to suck his dick, throw him against a wall and bite his neck and mostly, pull on his blue tie in a very provocative manner in the middle of his fucking work day, just to see him wiggle uncomfortably. He just does it for me and I would definitely do it for him, if he would just fucking let me......I tried to persuade him today, but he just wasn't having it. He has too much to do, too many eyes are on him, he has a wife, I have a boyfriend, there's nowhere to do it and it's not that he doesn't want to, he just can't! .........I guess if he acted like he did actually want to fuck me, it wouldn't be such an issue. Or maybe, if I could talk to him for more than ten minutes, while not using puns and ridiculous code for all the evil and dirty things we'd like to do, I'd be inclined to stick around just a little longer.........

......And on top of it all, I sent a letter to "boss's name here", telling him to get his ass in gear and now I'm absolutely paranoid that someone else is going to intercept it and he's going to be screwed. I'm such a fucking idiot......

Interestingly enough, this edit is what appeared shortly after she posted the above passage:

And on top of it all, I sent a letter to the notorious blue tie, telling him to get his ass in gear and now I'm absolutely paranoid that someone else is going to intercept it and he's going to be screwed.....

The blue tie code is important, because she now claims that "nbt" is not my boss, but an ex-boyfriend that has magically appeared out of nowhere. The ex-boyfriend story might be believable, had there not been revelations on her part that she enjoyed the attention from men, including the boss. She is completely fucked up.

She had me believing that I had, indeed, caused my boss to hate me, but I don't think that is an issue. That he is completely uncomfortable around me is quite obvious, but I realized when I went to management with the issue in the first place that some fallout would happen. However, time will erode all of this bullshit, it always does.

So I have used my powers for evil and what I am left with is the knowledge that I've made her life absolutely uncomfortable; that she holds some vehemence for me assures me of that (because if she didn't care, she wouldn't spend any amount of time writing about me in the first place; at least I have the balls to admit I give a shit, albeit completely inappropriately).

I wanted to leave a comment on her blog, pointing out the obvious, but I realized that that would be the hugest fucking mistake I could ever make. Instead I pour my anger out here, knowing that the ONLY person who will read it is myself, as it should be. I do not have, nor will I ever have, the desire or will to spam my blog address for others to read it.

Lesson learned: don't fucking wish harm on others, because it will probably backfire. Or at the very least, make sure it's swift and quick and absolutely NEVER leave witnesses.

Dirty LIttle Hate

I hate her. There, I said it. Am I supposed to feel some sense of relief here, because I don't. I just feel angrier.

She was in the store today and I the rage and hate that's been boiling under the surface emerged with a full vengeance. I fucking hate it.

I am sickened because I work for a company that feels it's okay to lie to their employees. Now, I am not stupid, I realized what kind of company I worked for a long time ago. It's just that I thought I did the right thing by going to management with a problem, a problem that I assumed would be taken care of. But it wasn't. Instead I was told, "you did the right thing....." and "he was in awe that you came forward", but now I wonder if any of that was true at all.

She stood there talking to him like it was her God-given right, that she could saunter in and pay a visit to a man she admitted to pursuing and wants sexually. A married man. Who is also my boss.

It makes me want to vomit.

I almost want her to show up at my house, so I can unleash the last few month's worth of rage on her ass; I know it would be spectacular. However, I don't think she's that stupid, although I've been proven wrong before.

I now sit here, angry and disgusted, wondering what I should do next, if anything. My husband has decided to pretty much ignore all of it, including her. In fact, efforts on my part to bring up any lingering feelings regarding her are met with, "just drop it, okay?" Drop it. Right.

I want to be able to go to someone and say, "alright, this happened and now I am feeling incredibly uncomfortable working, and that's not right because I enjoy my job....can you please help me out here", but I doubt I will get any satisfaction.

The bright side is that she is probably only here for the weekend, and then she will whore her ass back to TO, where she belongs.

I know that the idea of her will have to fade away, but right now the wounds are still fresh, and haven't had time to heal.

In a perfect world, she would have disappeared and never come back. But this is reality and in the real world the hurt never completely goes away.

September Mourning

I suppose at first glance one would see this post's title and think, "Ah, another 9/11 memorial page". Fuck that. That was 5 years ago, let's move on.

Don't get me wrong, I believe that what happened that day was a great travesty, but the media has exploited to the point where Joe (and Jane) Q. Public get to the point where they just can't stomach another 9/11 tribute, in any form. So, no, that's not what this is about. This is about something a little more tangible and closer to home for me.

September has been a phenomenally crappy month, which is very odd because it didn't start out in any memorable fashion, not good, bad or otherwise. However, with the words, "the crocodile hunter has died!!" September started a downward spiral.

My husband and I were playing WoW at the time of the news, when some ubergeeks started to stay that Steve Irwin was dead; we thought it was a joke. I alt-tabbed and quickly confirmed that he was indeed dead. Bummer.

Two days later I was faced with a sick cat and having to make a decision of having to put him to sleep or spending loads of money to find out that I need to put him to sleep; I chose the former.

Those two events were then compounded by the unexpected death of a fellow employee's wife. I did not know the man personally, but he worked with my husband and it was rather unexpected.

Steve Irwin, dead; Oliver, dead; Employee's wife, dead. What next.

This morning was a typical day, get up, shower, dress for work and go. I walked into the photo lab, just about to read the communication book when the phone rang. I answered to my husband's voice, a rarity for me (I usually call him).

"Your mom just called."

*heart sinking" "Oh, God."

"It's big."

"What...what's wrong??"

"Your sister's husband is dead".

What followed was me yelling, "OH MY GOD" repeatedly while customers stared at me in disbelief. I eventually changed phones and ultimately went home.

I am in shock, you never expect or are ready for that kind of phone call. The sad part is that all I can think is how bad my sister is hurting and what my niece is thinking right now.

I was not close to my brother-in-law. He worked out on a laker as a cook and was not home often. But he was still my sister's husband and to think that she is now a widow is unfathomable.

October is my favourite month of the whole year, not just because my birthday occurs during it. It's because the leaves change into a harmony of such vivid colours that it calms the soul. For me, it signals that inner peace I search for all year round.

I wait patiently for September to end, hoping that it has offered all the dissonance it has and welcome October's change.

It's what I live for.

Picture provided by Deviantart.com

Stupid Girl

"Don't tell your wife," she said, after revealing that our boss had sexually harrassed her (allegedly). With that my husband was given the absolute burden of knowing some very specific information pertaining to our place of employment and becoming concerned about someone he considered a friend.

It was, I'm sure, awful for him.

Given that we had just gone through a year of absolute shit in our marriage and that we were now well on our way to repairing it, the idea of keeping something as serious as this was unfathomable to him. Of course, he told me, knowing (and hoping) that I would help him digest this information.

I was not shocked by it because it confirmed what I had thought of her all along; that she was headed down a path of emotional destruction. I read her blog and realized that our boss was just another poor innocent in her wake, her having moved on from my husband.

I didn't have to think twice about what I was to do.

Her reaction was predictible: "you have no right to do this" and "there is nothing wrong". Nothing wrong with persuing a relationship with your boss or telling someone you think he wants to fuck you. Right.

My mind is blown by how ignorant she is. I honestly thought she was smarter than that. But she isn't. She is nothing more than a small, weak woman who will never know when the line is crossed. At least, not for others.

Not so long ago I told my husband I worried that he would get hurt by her, and he has. He told me that he will endure it and move on, that I have no doubt. But I still want to have my say with her, to finally face off to her and at last, show her how angry I truly am.

At least I know enough not to tell everyone my deepest secrets.

Photo provided by Deviantart.com

Dysfunctional Rhapsody

Once upon a time I wanted to be a writer, I even went to "college" to become one. But I realized after a year of partying and at only age 18, I didn't know what I wanted to be when I grew up. I still don't. But writing has always been a tool for me to escape, relieve, share, enjoy and create a world where I don't have to answer to anyone.

When I began blogging, I couldn't settle on any one blog utility. I have had several over the past few years, with some long ago abandonded. Through my many dalliances with therapists and like-minded groups, I was told that journalling was freeing for both your mind and soul, especially when you have a myriad of crap weighing you down.

I started this particular blog when I saw my second marriage started to falter. Ironically, I was also inspired to start writing after reading the other woman's blog; upon seeing the passion to which she applied her thoughts to a flashing screen moved me to start my own.

I mostly write in this blog because I know that very few people, if any at all, will be reading it, which is completely fine by me.

My life has been extremely complicated (as, I am sure, everyone's life is) and there was a time where I thought I would not be able to bear anymore. But of course, I always do and I move on, having learned whatever the trials are to teach.

When the other woman entered my life, I felt such an immense loathing that it changed who I was. It took her presence in my life for me to realize that something had to change, or my life was only going to get worse. I suppose I should thank her for that small favour, but, as she didn't introduce herself to my husband to enrich my life, I think I'll pass.

The events of the past year have capitulated to the point where I needed to decide to ignore it and walk away or stand by my convictions and step up; I chose the latter. So when I read that she was entering into a clandestine relationship with the boss of our place of employment, I spoke up. I knew that by doing so I was opening that proverbial can of worms, that I might also possibly be alienating myself from my co-workers and that I would probably become a very hated person. But I will not let something like this pass, especially since I, too, work there.

She doesn't see the error in her actions and, sadly, she never will. The fact that she is pursuing yet another married man does not phase her; she seems to be focused on how much I have "meddled" into her life.

As awkward as being at work has been lately, I know that in a month, two months, next year I will forget (mostly) about this. She will disappear and all I will be left with is knowing that I have grown as a person and that I have no regrets.

My life truly is a Jerry Springer episode.

Stay tuned for next week's show. It just may be a doozy.