Saturday, August 29, 2009

45 Minutes!!!!

This was my fortune from last night:
You have a charming way with words and should write a book.

Prophecy from a fortune cookie? Maybe. (We didn't eat our fortune cookies, but we did lick them.) Sounds weird? Well, not @ when all you have eaten is meat, eggs, and green vegetables for the past 12 days. Yes, we will keep on with it until September 6th. (okay, I ate that biscuit yesterday, but it was small, and I haven't cheated any other day.)

The sky looks amazing this morning. Grey, cloudy, sitting up against the mountains. I love it.
I'm still pulling up my knee socks and dealing with it. In a positive light.

I have haircuts today. AND I'm going to nap, or run wild through the hills. And grill meat. And replace heels that Tiger decided to chew on. My favorite pair. He's such a persnickety dog.

Ideally, in String Theory, which, I believe, somewhere my mate is encouraging me in a manner that is aggravating. He is poking me to do more. He is keeping me accountable. Now hold on, dearest, this is where it gets dicey. You know, in MY String Theory, my mate has a Robert Pattinson haircut and has the personality of Tyler Durden, and is a cute, everyday looking dude, but at the same time extraordinary and bewildering. Wonderful.

I am still puttering around the house, teetering, if you will, on my little bitty high heels. Preparing tarts and tea. Because we live in England in our precious little cottage covered in ivy. Ha. But, this is where it gets realistic. I am aggravated at his encouragement.

Turning it into pure distaste for how "hard this man is pushing me." "Am I not doing enough?" (Am I just not understanding where this bastard is coming from?!!!??)
Wait! He's not a bastard! I love him. He's my sweet baby! But that sweet baby is sure grinding my nerves....... Then, I hear him from the kitchen, asking where his socks are. I'm cussing, bc I have burned said tarts, and the tea doesn't taste right. Damn it!!! I screech, Can you get off my back for a second???!!!

He comes into the kitchen and glares at me, "What's your problem?" I adjust my face, (and my attitude), and say, "Nothing."

When it's clearly everything. (I do this in present life too.)

I continue to tell Mr. Pattison hair/Tyler Durden disposition man, about how much I am struggling with my writing, and I don't know how to push myself any harder. He, being a creative soul himself starts an outline of the past year. We sit at our kitchen table, and look at each others features....... Mind cloudy from adrenaline.

I sit there, with tears brimming in my eyes, and he tries to explain, he is not berating me, he is simply showing me where I am and where I want to go. I am in a better mood and willing to open my ears at this time, because he took time out of his routine to sit and only focus on me.

Now through these huge tear drops, I understand and can see perfectly, what I need to do from here.

The beautiful thing? Is we get back into sync. No longer in front of this stumbling block, that I had put in front of us. I can joyfully do the laundry, and flip around while we jam to an old record. The tarts taste delicious, and the tea isn't as bad as I thought.

Our perspective changed, and it helped me to be a stable partner. Equal.

This, isn't just String Theory. It's real life. I want to be Humpty Dumpty to my partner and fall apart, BUT!!!!!!! My King's horse's and My King's men, will be able to put me back together again. NO matter the cost. No matter, how much the hodge podge doesn't want to stick.

Ya know, he's gonna be my Swiss Army Knife. And you should be the same to someone in your present life. To your partner, Mama and Daddy, to your friend, or co-worker, or children.
Even when it's painful. Or too hard.

I am trying to things in baby steps. As awful as it is, I still hate everything, and everyone. I do.
But, I am trying to cope.

I have to be wary. I have ended up eating my crow. You know, being judgemental, and having the same happen to me. I have thought ugly thoughts, and ended up in that ugly boat.

It ain't pretty when pretty leaves you.

P.S. I'm going to church tomorrow. Even if I cry.

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