Dear Battle Worn Friend,

The last story I wrote on here is actually about a real person.

One day I will write about him in reality with no metaphors.

My dear friend.

He moved away and in with a woman with whom I do not get along.

And like most of my good male friends, we can’t be friends anymore.

Women hate their men to have women friends. As if it’s just asking for them to be cheated on or something.

I’m not completely faultless. I care about him so much and we know each other so well that when I could tell it wasn’t right for him… I told him AND her to stop it. I may have gotten angry and called her names…. ahem. But he told me he didn’t really love her and that he just didn’t want to be alone. So what am I supposed to do? Let my dear friend move across the country to be with someone he doesn’t even love without a fight?

Yep. That is exactly what I should have done. I’m older and wiser now and I realize that part of being a good friend is allowing your friends to make their own decisions, right or wrong. And being their friend through all of it.

So with whatever happened, we don’t talk anymore. I miss him like crazy. We talked about everything. He made me laugh like no one else has ever been able to. He always called me his babe and even after I met my husband he said that was his name for me so he had to keep calling me that. Even after he met his girlfriend. He tried to stop once but he would always say, “….. babe I mean Shauna. Bye babe, I mean Shauna….” He is honestly a very one of a kind person. I won’t go into it. It’s a long blog entry for another day.

My point was, that story was about him, so I wrote to his girlfriend (I have no way to contact him anymore) and I asked if we could all be friends. I told her how much I missed him and that I just wanted him back as my friend. He’s injured badly from being at war in Afghanistan and I know he could use a good friend as much as I could right now…..

I wonder what she’ll say back…..

Guild of One

Lured onto a Isle where my people came,

Into a body that was not my own.

Scared, confused and embarrassed of continuing on,

I saw many races and classes moving quickly by me,

I chose to walk slowly and open my eyes to this world.

And see past it.

I left my cloak, chest, shoulders, gloves and boots. Carried useless things in my backpack. Upon my mount, ran around a fountain all day and all night, calling out.

Tempting people to come and show me their true self. That sort of thing is not done in this world.

When I saw what great strength I had built, I started a guild of men and women and made it my family.

I kept them close to me and treated them well.

Some became too close. Some drifted away.

I kept calling out for these men and women until my guild had ballooned to over 500 souls.

A family of warriors and healers.

More depended on me than I could keep safe, so I entrusted some of my leadership to a few select members.

We thrived in happiness and productivity.

Until our kindness allowed maleficent forces into our guild.

A man and a woman who were driven to success by destruction. A man and a woman who had gifts to tempt and confuse our family. And they created doubt and animosity among us.

Those with the greatest magic and power were tempted to leave to more affluent guilds.

Those whom were weakest, were made to feel devalued.

And it crumbled before us. They were made to leave before they could take our riches but the damage had been done. 

I told the last loyal few to go and continue their destiny elsewhere, there was nothing left for them. The great battles could not be won with so few.

Our people were scattered. Some made names as great warriors in other guilds. Some stopped living in this world and returned home.

But there is one I asked to remain. A young girl with growing powers. Deep and sensual magic she possesses. She retained our riches and stayed behind to gather supplies in great numbers.

For one day, when we are again strong, we will call our people back.

She alone holds the name of our guild safe. And long after people have forgotten our past glories and sorrow, we will rebuild.

But for the meantime, it is only a guild of one.

 

 

 

Belief In Pizza

This postpartum thing is kicking my ass.

With my first son two years ago I spent the first two weeks of his life really hating him. Wondering why I wanted a child, what is the point?? I don’t know him, he has no personality he’s just this entity that cries non-stop, eats and pees and poos. I was getting zero sleep. Why would I like him?

So I was frustrated that I felt like I had completely ruined my life. It’s all that misconception that as soon as your child is born you have this immediate and all consuming motherly love for them. Uhh lies. Thank you for that, you uber maternal freaks. Your people are making my people feel like terrible human beings for not being like you. “How can you not love your child??” you ask. Because I’m honest, and I didn’t.

Now I’ve come to terms that that’s completely normal. Because at about two weeks old, he started to grow on me. I saw a person, a personality and the way you would any other time in your life, I fell in love. And when you’re in love, you don’t mind sacrificing  everything. You even enjoy it. And now at two years old, he’s the love of my life.

Holy hell but THIS time? I’m three months into my postpartum period and I’m crippled by depression. A dark room is my new hang out spot but unlike the times you surrender to a bad mood or feeling of melancholy, this feeling I cannot control AT all. I love my second baby, no problem with that. This time, I just don’t really like myself.

I have no clue what to do other than try my best to take care of my kids and order a pizza.

Douglas Coupland Was Right

Douglas Coupland was right. All families are Psychotic.

I’m going to tell you a little bit about my family. Normally you wouldn’t care about a stranger’s family however, this family is quite unique…. look and see.

My father. Seventy year old car salesman. Born in Scotland to an affluent family. Military father. Younger brother, older sister. He’s partied hard since the 60s.  He keeps a bottle of vodka in his car to take the odd swig of. Always wears a button up shirt where he unbuttons half of them. He has in the past had a temper issue. He once kicked the bumper off a truck because it drove too close to him. Womanizer. Women love him even now. Always had multiple girlfriends at a time. First wife they separated, shortly thereafter she committed suicide. Second wife (my mother) they divorced in the 90’s. He’s with an evil shrew of a woman now that he refuses to marry. He’s done a lot of drugs, drank a lot, had a lot of sex and indiscretions but when he was saddled with a two year old toddler that he had no clue what to do with, he stepped up, became Mr. Mom. Laundry, dishes, cooking…. he did it all for me. He always supported his family no matter what. I wish we were still close. Thanks Shrew. 

My Mother – a history of mental problems (I really resent having gotten some of them) in her family with a very intelligent yet psychotic suffragette mother and a very wealthy east Indian lawyer father that worked closely with Gandhi. Her first husband was a younger American from the south, they divorced and had a custody battle over my older sister. Second husband (My father, see above). A selfish human being with good intentions, she spent the majority of her adulthood being a bad alcoholic. I am haunted by being left in a car at 6 months while she passed out drunk in a bar, being told I killed her by hiding her alcohol at 5 years old and being left on a street corner with my suitcase while she forgot me and went to Disneyland by herself. She’s 65 now, sober for over 10 years but still insane. They don’t let her in the U.S. for a 70, 000 dollar government fraud charge yet I have to show her why her Samsung isn’t ringing. She’s a good grandmother though.

Two sisters. Both well off. Both married with children. Twelve and thirteen years older than me. One is a enigmatic business woman with my same sense of humor and a social anxiety disorder. I miss her and wish she lived closer. The other is an aloof housewife that we all struggle to be close to. We have children the same age so I wish we were close.

Aunt- totally loveable and normal.

Uncle- died young from ALS. From what a remember he was a very sweet and hilarious man.

My husband- a 25 year old southern American (sound familiar?) with a problem with drugs, lying and anger. He used to rap. I kind of believe he has Explosive Interruptive Disorder. TBD. Nevertheless a sweet kind hearted man that showed me more love than I thought possible. We are struggling right now but I have faith in him.

I’ve adopted through the years a mother and father from Ohio, a brother from New York, sister from here in town and many cousins from around the world. Honorary titles.

I have two sons. Both of them I was not a fan of when they were born. One is two and one is only a few months old. Now though…. now I’m in love. My oldest is the light of my life, my heart and soul and he is what I live for. My youngest is still new but man he’s cute and a little darling. What I hope for them is everything I didn’t get, some things I did and above all I want them to follow their hearts even at their own peril.