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Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Invisible is as invisible was...

I love the fact that I can post whatever ramblings come into my head on my blog, and while this is a public journal, open to whomever chooses to read it, not one soul has done so. Or if they did, had something better to do than post a comment.

Look at me, oh you can't, but wait I'm covered in marmalade twirling a screaming badger over my head, sure you can't look, oh that's right, you're doing texting, and by the way gang, it's a telephone, not a tiny fucking typewriter, you say hello, someone else answers and a relationship of sorts is established.

Give and take, a verbal exchange, dare I say reading between the lines, listen you dimwits, then respond. Oops, note to self, do not let go of the badger! AAGGHHH!!!

It just wasn't Christmas...until a Nun was punched.

I come from a large Irish Catholic family. Holidays were mixed anticipatory events. Oh boy, food...and lots of it, and oh no, drink...and lots of it. Guaranteed tears and at least one fistfight.

But that was thirty years how we have all mellowed. Recovery is the theme these days, and if there are tears, they stem from joy and gratitude...and no one would even consider punching a Nun. Well, not most of us.

Thirty years ago I had different dreams and ideals regarding the world at large than I do looking down the barrel of fifty. I suppose we all did. When I think of the woman of my dreams today, (if I still have one) she is much different than the one in my noggin' from days gone by. Then-she wanted sex, and more sex and took care of me, and wanted sex again. Oh yeah, she had to be beautiful and not be on my ass about drinking or the use or recreational drugs.

Two small concessions, I thought. Wrong.

Today she would still be beautiful, but comfortable with it, not pushing it, sex would be great, while enjoying a good meal and conversation just as much. A wicked sense of humor coupled with a fine sense of self...and endless patience. And yet I still live alone. Go figure.

Okay, I don't even date. Why. I'm scared. Half the time I can't stand to be around women as they frustrate the crap out of me and smothering them with a pillow seems like a healthy choice while the other half I yearn to be embraced.

Any takers? Just kidding about the pillow reference...sort of.

My new disclaimer...yeah I know.

Okay, the old disclaimer was tired. The ideas were outdated and keeping me stuck in a place I don't want to be now for something more refreshing.

I have recently changed my views regarding women. Seems I had some issues with the fairer sex due to past pain and self- centered fear. (Yes...duh applies.)

I'm done with that.

Being in recovery has helped me change my entire life, perceptions and attitudes. I cannot change my history but I can change my today and my future.

I recently realized that the women I know in recovery are some of the strongest, bravest, most gentle and kind teachers I have ever had. You exemplify integrity and spiritual growth, and I hope you know who you are.

Some may know of my past marital and relationship history and been a participant in them as well. It's past and that's where it the past.

I own my part in those failures but claim no more responsibility in any misery you may be experiencing. I am sorry, but it's time to get off the cross. We need the wood.

Thank you all...