July 13th, 2008

misc - fluffy

HOTLIST!

Time for another hotlist. I'm feeling like a sentimental boob tonight, so..

Here's a hotlist of some people whose love and friendship have been profound and moving influences in my life. This is a long one. In mostly alphabetical order, although I saved some extremely special ones for last.

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misc - fluffy

Declaring my freedom

As of today, my LJ is no longer friends only.

I did this because I decided that no trollish people can have the power over my life to make it so that my LJ becomes a closed book.

If they want to read it, so what? If that's all the life they have, so be it, I feel sorry for 'em. And if they want to comment, they can even do that, although their comments will be screened, and their IPs logged, just in case they choose to get hateful.

If you think I'm talking about you in this post? I probably am. Enjoy reading my life!
  • Current Mood
    excited liberated
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misc - fluffy

Decal patriotism

I'm listening to an oldie but a goodie, John Prine's Your Flag Decal Won't Get You Into Heaven Anymore.

The lyrics are worthy of a read:

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I am listening to this song, and I am reminded of all those damn yellow ribbon magnetics all over cars here in Texas and across the country. Some with slogans such as "SUPPORT OUR TROOPS". And I wonder two things.

First, how come I have yet to see a yellow ribbon sticker that says "BRING THEM HOME NOW!"? A yellow ribbon is supposed to be a sign that you're eagerly awaiting somebody's return. Anybody remember that cheesy fucking song by Tony Orlando back in the 70s? That's where the yellow ribbon tradition got its start. And it's been used countless times over the years since, to show that you're hoping somebody will come HOME. An imprisoned husband. An abducted child. And yes, a deployed soldier. But the yellow ribbon is NOT about "Hey, tell them what a great job they're doing!" - it's about "Come home. We want you home. You should be home."

Second: What precisely do these decal sticking people think they're accomplishing, other than to say "OH HEY! I'M A GOOD AMERICAN, YES YES YES I AM!". It takes a lot more than a damn sticker to show support for folks. And the only support those poor fuckers over in Iraq and Afghanistan need is the support of a comfortable flight HOME.

And God, and Barack Obama and congress willing, that's exactly where those soldiers will be in not too long.

Vote Obama. Vote for peace.
misc - fluffy

Two things...

I can't sleep, and this sucks because I KNOW I will get sleepy in the middle of church in about.. four hours.

And for some reason, I want to write and write and write. I want to wallow in nostalgia and stroll down memory lane and share all of these incredible life-memories I have, but nothing is coming out. I keep re-reading my sister's post about life with our father (linked at the end of my latest hotlist, a couple of posts back tonight) and THAT is the kind of thing I want to write this morning, something that is deep and thoughtful and interesting and presents something far out in a really understandable way, and the FUCKING WORDS AREN'T COMING TO ME.

This pisses me off.

I need more cowbell.
  • Current Music
    Uncle Kracker - I Don't Know
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misc - fluffy

Ring of Fire

He's sleeping like a baby tonight. Most nights he's restless, moving around a lot. Not tonight. Tonight just slow and steady breathing, and the occasional roll-over. I love it when he rests this well. Makes me feel good.

He does this weird hand dance most nights when he's asleep. Out like a light, and his arms will rise up and his hands will slowly twist and turn and rotate on his wrists, his fingers fluttering in some strange ballet. It's the strangest thing I've ever seen a sleeping person do, and I find it incredibly charming. Those little quirks that make somebody unique.

The good stuff. Things like that are the good stuff.

The quiet snores. The twinkle in his eyes when he makes a terrible pun that makes me want to bury my head in the sand. The way he wraps his arms around me when he's rock solid asleep, making me feel like I've never been so safe, will never ever be safe anywhere else but in his arms, his arms, his strong, gentle arms.

We're coming up on four years now, and I am more in love with him than ever. Yeah, there's been some rough patches. I've been tempted on rare occasions to go running back to California, live with Renee, hide for the rest of my life, but we weather that shit through, because that's what a marriage is about, it's about getting through, pushing through, riding out the shitty weather together.

Because love isn't an accident, folks. It's a choice, and it's a choice you've gotta make every single day. When he does something that really pisses you off, or when you feel like she's not giving you the attention you need right now, you have to CHOOSE to continue to love this person, because, no matter how pissed off you are RIGHT NOW, tomorrow you're going to look into that person's eyes and see a certain tenderness, or a vulnerability, or a spark, and it will bring all of those feelings of adoration, of tolerance for human foibles, it will bring that stuff right back to the forefront.

This is something I never really understood until I met him, that it's a choice. It's not hormones. It's not something we have no control over. Love is a choice. And we can choose to love or we can choose to forget that love.

Me?

I choose to remember. I choose to stick it through. I choose to love him, even when I want to wring his neck. I choose to love him in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, in addiction and in sobriety, for as long as we both walk this green Earth. May we walk it for a very very long time to come.

And I don't run at the first sign of instability or trouble. I stick. I choose to stay, I choose to make it work, I choose to love him.

Because, oh man. When it's good, it's so damn good, and there's nothing finer, nothing more desireable in the world to me than to be with him, just sharing the same space. And we help each other, we make each other more complete, more stable, more sane, more.. just more.

June Carter Cash wrote "Ring of Fire" about falling in love with Johnny Cash, and how his drug and booze addictions made that shit HARD. Somewhere in there, June made the choice, the fucking HARD choice, and trust me, I know how hard that choice is, I made it myself, to love a man with addiction issues and other head problems. It sure paid off for June and Johnny. They were married for 35 years, until she died with Johnny sitting by her side. Johnny lived less than four months after her death. And I believe that on some level, that was a choice, too, that when she died, he didn't want to live any longer, and he faded away.

Loving him is, for me, like living in a ring of fire. It burns hot and high, and powerful, and I couldn't get out of it if I tried.. and I wouldn't want to try.

Loving him is my choice.


Love is a burning thing
and it makes a fiery ring
bound by wild desire
I fell in to a ring of fire...

I fell in to a burning ring of fire
I went down,down,down
and the flames went higher.
And it burns,burns,burns
the ring of fire
the ring of fire.

The taste of love is sweet
when hearts like ours meet
I fell for you like a child
oh, but the fire went wild..
  • Current Music
    Social Distortion - Ring Of Fire
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misc - fluffy

One more thing: My shrink is God!

Been meaning to post about this.

I knew that my psychiatrist was having issues with Medicaid, but what I didn't know, and just found out yesterday?

He wasn't a Medicaid provider.

Every month, this amazing man's office staff has been pretending to take my Medicaid info and etc, and not processing the billing at all.

How did I find out?

I asked Juanita, the office lady, if he was on Evercare, my new Medicaid provider. She told me that he just got on it last week. I said: wait a minute.. he was a (I can't remember my old Medicaid provider) member, right? She said: Nope. We just started accepting Medicaid thisOOPS!

And she blushed and couldn't look me in the eye.

And I said, I said, I said, Juanita, are you telling me the Doc hasn't been getting paid for treating me?

And she says back: Nope, and don't let him know that I slipped and you found out. Sometimes, he takes a liking to some of the patients at the hospital (y'all remember I was in hospital last fall, right?) and just does them for free.

I'm floored. What a great man!

I'm glad he's an Evercare provider now, as he will be getting paid for the great stuff he does for me.

And I am baking cookies for him and his staff this week and bringing them in to the office, even though my next appointment with him isn't for six weeks.

Sam gets health insurance through the school next month, btw. Guess who he'll be going to for psych care?