Beat the Time
I have finally been taught how to download mp3s and burn my own cd's.
Holy shit, y'all--she's finally joined the 21st century.
Shut up.
I'm just happy as hell that I no longer have to listen to the Sugarcubes or Edie Brickell on really, really old cassette tapes--dubs, no less. A cassette dubbed 17 years ago by--well, a 17 year old isn't exactly of the highest sound quality. At last, I can listen to my shitty 80's music in true 00's fashion. I have arrived.
Whatever.
I'm just fucking disturbed. The ex parte hearing was Tuesday morning. Ben and I arrived at 8:30, just after DB showed up at the courthouse. He glared at us the whole time. I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my skull the whole time we were in the courtroom. They called our case, and his lawyer wasn't there yet, so we got kicked to the end of the line. The judge went through the whole fucking docket and then called recess. Around that time, DB's lawyer showed. He wanted me to agree to not try the matter that day, but to extend the ex parte for 60 days because, according to my lawyer, he's hopeful he can talk DB into accepting my terms and settling the whole custody matter within that timeframe. I think it's a fat chance, but I figure, what the fuck. I agree to the 60 day extension on the conditions that (1) any and all dropoffs not at preschool now take place at the cop shop (based on his threatening to kick Ben's "fucking ass" when Ben dropped him off at Sonic Monday afternoon); and (2) I am allowed phone contact EVERY NIGHT when El Nino isn't with me. The lawyers went back to talk to the judge in chambers, and they'd no sooner walked away than DB was in our faces, calling me everything but a white woman, telling me I'm crazy and can't control my emotions and need to be medicated, ad nauseum, heavy on the nausea.
He started calling me at 3:00 that afternoon.
He called me at work yesterday. Crying about how the school had called him, said El Nino's out of control, and that they want to meet with both of us--at the same time--and the teachers to discuss things. I called the Director--it's a crock of shit. HE called the school to "check on" El Nino, and was told that El Nino's reverted back to some old behaviors, and HE suggested a meeting but brought up my TRO and blah, blah, blah. I talked about things to the Director, we agreed we'd give things another couple of weeks (because El Nino's having some major life upheaval lately, given the circumstances), and if a meeting was deemed necessary, separate ones would be held with DB and with Ben and me.
Today I get an email: "so i hear you refuse to meet with (El Nino's) teachers to discuss your son's situation. is this true?" I didn't respond. I forwarded it to my lawyer with a note, "I think a letter to his attorney is in order."
Tonight, I called him several times so that El Nino could speak to him, as promised. Finally got him on the 4th or 5th try. They chatted, then ended the conversation. He called back 2 minutes later and left me a shitty message about "these are not the rules I set forth, so let's try this again, and if you can't get it right, you know what the consequences will be. You have a good night, now." I called my lawyer and told him enough is enough.
The fucker's going to do jail time. He's asked for it. I won't deal with this shit anymore. I've dealt with enough. I've been more than accommodating. Fuck, I've even been nice.
I'm done.
And I'm pissed because it's all wearing me so very thin. Everything rubs me the wrong way. I find out that Ben still hasn't informed his parents of our cohabitation, and I immediately assume it's because he doesn't think I'm good enough to win their approval. He tells me there's a football game on Sunday, and I immediately assume he's going to be glued to the tv for the duration and just ignoring me. My son whines and I take it as a personal attack. I'm just too mentally drained to even bother processing shit and just go with my first (and usually irrational) reaction. I'm not like this, and I hate it. Further, I hate that he's the driving force behind it all.
I've never really, truly wished another human being dead--but I have to say, if I got that call tomorrow, I'd laugh out loud. I'd go to the funeral wearing a bright pink dress and FMPs, and I'd spit on his pathetic cold corpse. Then I'd do the fucking time step on his grave while saying, "couldn't happen to a nicer fella."
In my mentally deranged state last night, I essentially got Ben to ask me to marry him without actually asking me. He pretty much told me that's his intention, but his proposal will be "a surprise." I fucking hate surprises. I always have. Especially lately, now that my neuroses have been piqued and my control freak tendencies are at an all-time high. I want NO surprises, I want only boring routine and predictability. I want to wake up every morning and know EXACTLY what that day holds in store for me. No fucking surprises. I know, this will be a pleasant surprise, but dammit, "pleasant" and "surprise" aren't 2 words that belong together in my current vocabulary. I admit, it's nice to know his intentions are up to par with my desires, but I'd prefer to know what's going to go down and when so I can be mentally prepared for it. We batted it back and forth for a bit, then he insisted on tabling the entire discussion until "it actually happens." But I want to beat every dead horse to a freakin' pulp because, well, I enjoy futility. Lucky for me, I'm smart enough to know when to quit.
Most of the time, anyway.
I'm tired. It's damn near 10:00 and all I want to do is drink mass quantities and smoke even more--while listening to my newly burned CD, of course. This is so fucking cool.
What can I say? Once a nerd, always a nerd.
Please tell me it's all starshine and flowers from this point. I don't think I can deal with any more shit. I really feel for the people being ripped apart by natural disasters and war and everything else shitty in the world right now, but I'm in the midst of my very own shit storm, and baby, it's getting deep.
"You've got a lot of living to do without life."
Holy shit, y'all--she's finally joined the 21st century.
Shut up.
I'm just happy as hell that I no longer have to listen to the Sugarcubes or Edie Brickell on really, really old cassette tapes--dubs, no less. A cassette dubbed 17 years ago by--well, a 17 year old isn't exactly of the highest sound quality. At last, I can listen to my shitty 80's music in true 00's fashion. I have arrived.
Whatever.
I'm just fucking disturbed. The ex parte hearing was Tuesday morning. Ben and I arrived at 8:30, just after DB showed up at the courthouse. He glared at us the whole time. I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my skull the whole time we were in the courtroom. They called our case, and his lawyer wasn't there yet, so we got kicked to the end of the line. The judge went through the whole fucking docket and then called recess. Around that time, DB's lawyer showed. He wanted me to agree to not try the matter that day, but to extend the ex parte for 60 days because, according to my lawyer, he's hopeful he can talk DB into accepting my terms and settling the whole custody matter within that timeframe. I think it's a fat chance, but I figure, what the fuck. I agree to the 60 day extension on the conditions that (1) any and all dropoffs not at preschool now take place at the cop shop (based on his threatening to kick Ben's "fucking ass" when Ben dropped him off at Sonic Monday afternoon); and (2) I am allowed phone contact EVERY NIGHT when El Nino isn't with me. The lawyers went back to talk to the judge in chambers, and they'd no sooner walked away than DB was in our faces, calling me everything but a white woman, telling me I'm crazy and can't control my emotions and need to be medicated, ad nauseum, heavy on the nausea.
He started calling me at 3:00 that afternoon.
He called me at work yesterday. Crying about how the school had called him, said El Nino's out of control, and that they want to meet with both of us--at the same time--and the teachers to discuss things. I called the Director--it's a crock of shit. HE called the school to "check on" El Nino, and was told that El Nino's reverted back to some old behaviors, and HE suggested a meeting but brought up my TRO and blah, blah, blah. I talked about things to the Director, we agreed we'd give things another couple of weeks (because El Nino's having some major life upheaval lately, given the circumstances), and if a meeting was deemed necessary, separate ones would be held with DB and with Ben and me.
Today I get an email: "so i hear you refuse to meet with (El Nino's) teachers to discuss your son's situation. is this true?" I didn't respond. I forwarded it to my lawyer with a note, "I think a letter to his attorney is in order."
Tonight, I called him several times so that El Nino could speak to him, as promised. Finally got him on the 4th or 5th try. They chatted, then ended the conversation. He called back 2 minutes later and left me a shitty message about "these are not the rules I set forth, so let's try this again, and if you can't get it right, you know what the consequences will be. You have a good night, now." I called my lawyer and told him enough is enough.
The fucker's going to do jail time. He's asked for it. I won't deal with this shit anymore. I've dealt with enough. I've been more than accommodating. Fuck, I've even been nice.
I'm done.
And I'm pissed because it's all wearing me so very thin. Everything rubs me the wrong way. I find out that Ben still hasn't informed his parents of our cohabitation, and I immediately assume it's because he doesn't think I'm good enough to win their approval. He tells me there's a football game on Sunday, and I immediately assume he's going to be glued to the tv for the duration and just ignoring me. My son whines and I take it as a personal attack. I'm just too mentally drained to even bother processing shit and just go with my first (and usually irrational) reaction. I'm not like this, and I hate it. Further, I hate that he's the driving force behind it all.
I've never really, truly wished another human being dead--but I have to say, if I got that call tomorrow, I'd laugh out loud. I'd go to the funeral wearing a bright pink dress and FMPs, and I'd spit on his pathetic cold corpse. Then I'd do the fucking time step on his grave while saying, "couldn't happen to a nicer fella."
In my mentally deranged state last night, I essentially got Ben to ask me to marry him without actually asking me. He pretty much told me that's his intention, but his proposal will be "a surprise." I fucking hate surprises. I always have. Especially lately, now that my neuroses have been piqued and my control freak tendencies are at an all-time high. I want NO surprises, I want only boring routine and predictability. I want to wake up every morning and know EXACTLY what that day holds in store for me. No fucking surprises. I know, this will be a pleasant surprise, but dammit, "pleasant" and "surprise" aren't 2 words that belong together in my current vocabulary. I admit, it's nice to know his intentions are up to par with my desires, but I'd prefer to know what's going to go down and when so I can be mentally prepared for it. We batted it back and forth for a bit, then he insisted on tabling the entire discussion until "it actually happens." But I want to beat every dead horse to a freakin' pulp because, well, I enjoy futility. Lucky for me, I'm smart enough to know when to quit.
Most of the time, anyway.
I'm tired. It's damn near 10:00 and all I want to do is drink mass quantities and smoke even more--while listening to my newly burned CD, of course. This is so fucking cool.
What can I say? Once a nerd, always a nerd.
Please tell me it's all starshine and flowers from this point. I don't think I can deal with any more shit. I really feel for the people being ripped apart by natural disasters and war and everything else shitty in the world right now, but I'm in the midst of my very own shit storm, and baby, it's getting deep.
"You've got a lot of living to do without life."
posted by Mitzi Green at 9:41 PM
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