Centro de Adoracio'n: Palabra de Fe

The sign on the front of the building facing my office reads the above. I do not speak any foreign languages, therefore it is only the music and nightly suppers and scads of passionate-acting Hispanics that makes me know it is a Church. Indeed on All Hallow's Eve, or the Day of the Dead, there was a night-long celebration. They really know how to whoop it up: Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, Christmas, New Year's Eve, New Year's Day.... Which is sad for me because I know all of this -- I was working on each of those days last year.

But the language barrier got me to thinking about communications, and not having the ability to communicate. A woman in the Spa at the YMCA the other night had on the cutest swim suit. I complimented it, but she did not speak English. My mind, however, reeled when she got in the spa and said "caliente" to the babies who were with her. Babies? Yes, but she was older... I wanted to at least say "hi, what's up?" to this woman. I kept looking over and smiling. Then it hit me.... I smiled at her and pointed at the kids and said "Abuela?" She grinned. I loved it.

Therefore I feel burdened to learn a foreign language so's that I can know what it means when the sign on the church across the street says "Center of Adoration: Word of Faith"

Would it be called the beginning of the very end... or the very end of the beginning we had and then squandered?

My heart is tight in my chest this morning. I've been dreaming all night long about Persephone living half of her year in Hades (seriously... just finished reading Sappho's Leap). It was weird, because a) I was only asleep for 4 or 5 hours and b) I didn't have to stay there in the underworld for the entire year... just in the winter. * It wasn't scary, either....

So today is half of the rest of this divorce business... the settlement part. I am remembering all of the reasons I wanted a divorce in the first place: my s.t.b.x's weird hygene habits, his bad financial habits, his controlling nature (we talked nearly a dozen times yesterday). The first time we talked yesterday, he asked me out to dinner. Not just any place... but a fancy Cajun place that I always wanted to try. He never took me to nicer places. Sure, I went to nice places with friends... but never with him.

But I did not go last night. Why would I? To tempt fate? Perhaps I really am as stupid as I look? No, the reason I did not go, is because I am still afraid on one level... on another... I really didn't care to weep thru a several-course meal.

Yeah... he still makes me weep uncontrollably when I see him. More like tears streaming out of my eyes... lump in my throat. Business is not that difficult to do. Letting the dreams die is the hard part.

Any girl stupid enough to get married at the tendre age of 20 had those dreams:
Finish putting eachother thru college, then get good jobs, move away from Home, buy a house,  have babies, be successful, go back to school for an advanced degree, make cookies for little Z's first-grade class, be overwhelmed on your 10th anniversary when your spouse gives you a gargantuan set of diamond earrings, and then presents you with a fabulous vacation he'd been saving for... for years! A second honeymoon... someplace tropical... you learn to scuba dive. He makes you a necklace out of shells. You fall in love over again. You conceive little O on the vacation, and then your life is perfect.

But that is not the way things worked out. Sure, my body was a fault for not bearing the babies... but by our 10th anniversary, he went crazy and I moved out because I was bone-weary of him. And no longer in love. I've spoken before about the way he systematically killed our love. For those in the know, I'm super-passionate... It's damn near impossible to get me to give up on something I believe in... something like 10-years impossible.

That damn song is in my head again. Not because I believe it's true.... probably my conscience playing games on me... making me feel the regret. And I do regret lots of things. Like, that he didn't love me enough to get himself help before we were married (yes folks, supid girl married a guy she knew had issues... the dummy thought she could fix him!)... like that I still trusted him, because he would pat my head and tell me thing would be okay... even after he scared me to death by threatening himself with knives or guns (no, the time I had him taken to the mental hospital was not the first time that happened).

Improvement comes in small doses...
Often when I used to get in this mode of thinking and writing and crying... I would just sit here for hours and bitch and moan about "how he done me wrong"... But... instead of saying "I'm really unhappy".... I just said "I'm really unhappy right now"....

Life is good. The getting on part is, anyways. From here on out, my job is to remind myself that I left no stone unturned... and anything else I would have done to get back together... could've gotten me killed. There has to be peace of mind somewhere. I can find it.

 

 

 

*For those who don't recall their Greek Mythology offhand, Demeter was the goddess of the weather or the seasons or something... and had a daughter with Zeus, who promised the girl to Hades, the god of the underworld, as his bride. Persephone, the girl went to stay with Hades for half of the year. Demeter was sorrowful and made that half of the year cold, and all plantlife turned brown and died. In the spring, upon Persephone's return to her mother... the weather turned warm once more and things came alive and trees bore fruit and the like. There is a part of the story that is quite "Eve-like", with a pomegranet fruit, and you can find the correct and entire thing here.

Oh oh oh oh oh!

Yeee-haaaaaa! I'm going to school again... to school again... to school again... I'm going to school again to study Industrial Engineering!

30 days from today :)

I got you... under my skin....

La da de... la da da... hmm hmmm hmmmmmmmm...

T - minus - 12 days and counting. It's the Un-marriage-o-meter! Supposed to be T - minus - 5 days... but something went screwy with his house refinance, and I can't finalize the divorce until he signs off, giving me my caish (damn-it-all... say it like I spelled it, Redneck!).

So get this: Mr. Right (right now, for certain) is coming out here from California (over 1500 miles), just to help me move into my new duplex. D-day occurs while he is here. My mother thinks I did it on purpose; I can assure you that I did not.

But since the s.t.b.x has signed the waiver for the divorce, and the only one who can un-do it now, is me... I'm going to pick up Mr. Right from the airport, looking like only the long-lost girlfriend has a right to look... like if my ex ever saw me looking like that, it was only inside the house... as though I were out to make every girl in the airport feel utter jealousy and hatred of my fair complected, coppery-blonde-ness.

Disappointing...
Met with the upper mgt. yesterday to ask for funding to attend grad school. Bon Jovi is ringing in my head "Shot Down... in a blaze of Glory."

 

Right or Wrong....

I filed today. With the county clerk's office. Everything will be final on July 26th. The song rolling thru my mind when I was signing everything? 
 

Right Or Wrong by George Strait
 
Right or wrong I'll always love you
Though your're gone I can't forget
Right or wrong I'll keep on dreaming
Still I wake with the same old regret
All along I knew I'd lose you
Though I prayed that you'd be true
In your heart please just remember
Right or wrong, I'm still in love with you.