There was a verse that I was gonna write I haven't yet but there's still a chance I might

I felt ever so much more together at 14 than I do now at 40. I had it all together then. Okay, maybe not really but it seems recently that I am far more awkward and unsure now than I was then. I am in a bit of tailspin and I don't know how to correct course.

It's making me a bit difficult to deal with, I suppose. I have this whole midlife crisis, crisis of faith, shadow of fear, flood of disappointment, angst-ridden, I don't know what going on with me right now. I hear it gets better but I am honestly not sure. Not sure about that...or anything else for that matter.

Sigh.

A good friend of mine said that all this is just part of the healing process. She said that she thinks because I was so accepting of it all in the beginning and that because I vowed that I was going to stay positive that maybe I didn't fully process my anger and disappointment and it has now just all bubbled up to the surface because nothing is how I thought it would be at this point. I suppose there is something to all of that.

And that being said, it gives me an opportunity to explain my crisis of faith and why am I am where I am with all of that. A lot lately I am hearing that I need to lean in, pray, trust and what ruffles me there is that I want to scream at these people "WTF do you think I have been doing?!"  Then, we get into the whole "God's timing" conversation and a landslide of Bible verses to reinforce how wrong I am about things. And next thing you I have alienated friends and family because quite frankly the trip is turning out to be nothing like the brochure. NOTHING. I have been in such a dark place that I actually started reading the Book of Discipline the other night to see if there is a point where my very vocal disappointment and despair would be cause to revoke my membership. Turns out it all kind of falls under the category of me working out my own salvation with my own fear and trembling which is probably good for me in the long run but right now it's a little bit of a disappointment because being kicked out of church would totally fit in with the rest of the shitstorm around me.

Sigh.

Don't get me wrong. Life is not bad. I have a lot going for me but it doesn't feel like this is where I am supposed to be and it certainly isn't where I used to be. That's hard some days but on the other side of the token I can totally see where I needed to see what I am seeing and experiencing. One day I am going to write about post about my shower and how hard water makes it look like I don't wash my hair. I am also going to write about how keenly aware I have become washing laundry as a luxury item. It's the discontent of disconnect that has me so completely off-kilter.

Life is not at all bad. I am doing well in a lot of ways. My kids are great. My friends and family, wonderful as ever. It's that verse I was gonna write. I think it haunts me. Writing has always been my outlet, my talent, my thing. Before all of this shook loose with my marriage and whatnot, I had been seriously outlining and business planning, trying to get myself on track to do more. I haven't yet. My life falling apart has been a bit of a distraction. I can't even focus my energies to write grocery list some days lately. The disconnect is within me. I have always put off what fed my soul in the name of pragmatism and practicality. I am truly my own worst enemy.

Past couple days, I have started to see how this whole midlife crisis, crisis of faith, shadow of fear, flood of disappointment, angst-ridden, I don't know what going on with me right now insanity has reconnected me with myself. I have been slowly admitting to myself and a few select others my truths and my misperceptions of others. Making friends with my powerlessness and buddying up with all my flaws. I am seeing now how different life would be had I got my way at each and every turn. No joke I have lived, laughed and love more in the three months since I moved than I had in the time since my husband left. I have also kicked, screamed and cussed but that's to be expected. This is not an easy time and mine is complicated by the egos and delusions of people I have no influence on. It is what it is and I really mean that this time.

While kicking and screaming and brooding and crying, the living, laughing and loving didn't stop. I have been an absolute black hole of delight and I have been surrounded by absolute angels of grace and mercy. I still have some kinks to work out and some chapters that need closed. I have become more fully aware of the parts of me that need healing and let go of my idea of how this is all gonna play out. After all, it is God's plan, and as point of clarification, I have never once during this recent storm said I didn't believe. So yeah, God's plan, not Jenny's plan and I'd be an absolute liar if I didn't admit just a tad that I am seeing evidence of the way He works things for the good. There's an entire novel to be written there.And still those verses, of course.

I haven't yet.

There's still a change I might.

I'll start today because someday has a funny way of slipping past and withering into regret.

And life's too short and too precious to squander it on speculation.

Once all the best was mine...Tipp City yea, I'm still here.

So, ummmm, yeah. For e'ry bit woohoo hallelujah positive and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound that I was yesterday, I am the penultimate today.

Life is like that I guess. I don't know, I am fully just guessing. I having one of those days when I am thinking of that shirt that says,"Jesus Loves You...Everyone Else Thinks You Are An Asshole" and thinking the opposite applies to me. E'ryone loves me, Jesus thinks I am asshole.

I am. I am willfully disobedient in a few very small areas and I kinda think that I would like to be Nicole Arbour's BFF 4 life. I am not even kidding. It'll be me and Nicole Arbour and Lisa Lampanelli and we'll be toking it up with Johnny Hopkins and Slone Kettering. Okay, maybe not, but oblige me, I am in a massive funk today and I trying desperately to pull myself back on course.

I slept poorly. Had crazy, crazy dreams about my doctor and trying to get to an appointment, and so when I came back from dropping the boy off at school, I curled up on the couch. My "old mangy, transient" husband stopped by while I was sleeping and that's when I went downhill. He doesn't speak to me at all anymore, not even about things that matter. About six months ago, I thought that we were over all that but I guess is skank-ass girlfriend heard we actually had several civil conversations in a row and freaked out.

(Queue "Where is God?" by Oliver Adams)  (So obscure, I can't find it anywhere for the link.)

I know you are probably thinking at this point, what does Tammy and the Amps have to do with any of this? Well, I am glad you asked.

Tipp City has been on my mind a lot lately. I have no clue why. Not really. I mean, it's about equidistant to the grandparents so there's a bonus. It's closer to a lot of other family. It's closer to things that keep my daughter happy. It's a bit like whence I came from but without me having to constantly relive my backstory that involves being a complete douche to people who didn't deserve it. I could be me without having to prove or disprove any notions about who I am.

It's not the first time in my life I have considered Tipp City as a place to call home. Several years ago, sigh, for whatever reason, my husband (who grew up in Miami County) always wanted to go spend our free time there...despite saying he hated everything about Miami County. There's a great park in Tipp City that we would end up at occasionally. A great park where we by the end of the journey would have met new people who actually sat and hung out with us as we all watched our kids play together. At the time, his parents were helping us out quite a bit and moving to Tipp would have made sense. (My mom would have moved up there eventually because she's good like that.)

Anyway...so I totally feel like I don't fit in, don't vibrate right, don't something in my present situation. Everyone so concerned all the time with matters of consequence. Everyone so booked to the gills with stuff. I know some of it is the way that this pending divorce, the bankruptcy, the complete and total lack of ability to claim any sort of worldly success is totally f****ng messing with me. I don't need to be mega anything, but honestly no part of my life plan ever involved having to hang my head in shame and mortification as I told people my husband left me for livestock. No part of my life plan ever, ever, EVER saw me 29 days from 40 and so broke I can't even pay attention.

Shrug. This is not exactly inspirational. I am not there today. I want to be. I have cried out to the Lord so much since this morning, I think He is letting all go straight to voice mail.

What did I ever do so horrible in my life that I deserved to be cheated on and all my dreams shattered?

NOTHING.

God allowed it. No clue why and still working through some emotion on that. I am not the woman I was when this started. There is good in that but so much bad. I don't think that a lifetime in prayer and therapy will heal this gaping chest wound that my husband and his self-centered malady left me with. There is no beauty for ashes today. Today, once again God chose not to make all things new or to work all things to the good of Jen who loves him, I willfully and willingly stepped into being a full-on, stay-at-home mom. I don't regret the time. I only regret that the world is not so accommodating and that further exacerbating the annihilation of my confidence that has come from the actions of my husband is the clear cutting that comes every-time I unsuccessfully try to sell myself to some prospective employer.

I can not press any further in without actually going home to the Lord himself. That my friends is the truth of my situation. I have nothing but God and his promises. That I have survived this far in this situation is nothing but the grace of God. No joke. Pressing in doesn't mean you don't feel the pain. I feel the pain. Daily. Some days hourly. I live in a world where hypocritical women's studies lecturers fuck husbands because of their own damned brokenness. Your actions destroyed my world, my life, my peace. I fucking hate you both. May God deal with you ever so severely.

I hate this world.

I am tired of so much.

I just want to move to Tipp City and live out the remainder of my years in the relative peace of Miami County. Once...all the best...it was mine. I never once took it for granted. I really didn't But here I am. Busted and broken and abandoned. Tipp City, yeah, I am still here. And it beats the hell out of moving back to Germantown.

I never claimed perfection.

I just want to be content.

First Day of the Rest of My Life: Take 14,524

As I start this, it must be the right thing to do because Matthew West's "Day One" is playing on the radio right now.

Day one. 

No day before.

Clean slate.

The beginning.

It's late evening as I write this but that's because that is the time I have available to write. I have never been much of a conformist and the older I get the more I see the complete illusion that is calculated time. Shrug. Call me a weirdo. It's okay, I am totally fine with that. 

Lamentations 3:23-24, that's the whole His mercies are new every day thing. Sigh, but in full disclosure...I struggle with this and the idea of hope these days. Shrug. At some point, in a relentless beating, you just give up and shut down. 

That feels awful to type but it is so totally how I feel right now! 

I keep hearing that the opposite of faith is not doubt, but worry. The first time I heard that it was comforting because I have really been wrestling with well, anything and everything. 

Why wouldn't I be? 

My husband left me for a woman who somehow despite working in the women's studies department at the local state university and having done some work she feels worthy of noting involving Christianity...well, she seems to fail to recognize or even implicate herself in the ongoing financial abuse or any of the past verbal, mental, emotional or physical abuse. Plus, she has totally ruined the Beastie Boys for me because now when I hear the lines,"And beatnik chicks just wearing their smocks/ Walking high and mighty like she's #1 and /She thinks she's the passionate one." I for whatever reason think of her. But I digress...

Where was I. Oh, yeah...my husband left me. It's been almost two years. I am still in disbelief. How can a man who says that you are his whole world and that he is so grateful that God gave me to him suddenly decide that livestock makes a better romantic alternative? In my best Church Lady voice,"Hmmmm, could it be Satan?" Damn Skippy.

When all of this broke, I hit my knees and then hit the pavement and came up short. No better job, no better income, and a whole mess of other issues that have me very much fully doubting just about everything. I mean everything! As I sit here on my patio typing this, I am gonna lose this house. I have tried and tried to get more income, to get support on paper, pray, plead, hope, wish. Nothing. I love my little house. And stupidly, part of the reason I love it is because my husband worked so hard and without complaint to get us here. Wanna see the view from here? 

Okay, so the webcam takes a horrible picture. There is so much peace in this backyard. That right corner where it's all bushy should be a vegetable garden but all the rain and lack of time for weeding and um, my love of morning glories has lead to this abomination. You can't see the apple tree or the fire pit or any of the memories of all the good times in this backyard or how absolutely gorgeous the sky is tonight.

I don't know what I am supposed to do with myself. Yeah, pretty much you would not be wrong to queue up that White Stripes song of a similar name. I didn't need him when I met him or have any weird issue that made me make poor decisions. He was in my life because I wanted him and not just haphazardly, willy nilly. Fuck. (Sorry.) That's what makes this all the harder. I didn't enter into this half-cocked or aimlessly trying to fulfill some need. I repeatedly put him off. I was good in my condo with my daughter and all my friends. Something though said give him a chance.

Famous last words.

Seriously.

He just dropped our son off and he treats me like some two-bit whore he never gave two shits about. Dropped some money on the table on the porch and does not acknowledge me. It's pretty unnerving.

Anyway...

Where was I?

I am not even sure. Seriously. Seriously.

First day of the rest of my life: take 14,524. How many of those days were wasted? I shudder to think. But God's mercies are new every day. Every single solitary stinking day! This is good. It means that no matter how bad I screw up today that tomorrow is a new day. And I do screw up I struggle with forgiveness for my husband and that skank whore he is shacked up with. I struggle to be okay with a world that is okay with what is happening to me and my kids. My kids are absolute proof in a higher force to me, I don't deserve such loveliness, such awesomeness in my life, yet there they are...somehow still calling me Mom and relying on me for things despite the fact the I know without a doubt I have totally dropped the ball of providing sanity, comfort, security, peace. Ugh. I feel very bad about this. This...all of what is going on in this moment...it is not what I ever wanted or envisioned for either of them. I wanted more. Every mother does...

The mercies are new everyday, but the residual feelings of failure never seem to fade.

Maybe I am doing this all wrong.

Please advise.

Maybe I should do something with all these drafts

I have four drafts just sitting here, incomplete, unposted, neglected.

I have a lot of incomplete, neglected, unfinished, unposted business in my life.

I don't like that theme.

Deep breath.

Maybe I need that guy from Moral Kombat to pop up in life with the command to finish...whatever it is I need to finish. Finish the dishes. Finish the business plan. Finish the blog. Finish the cinnamon rolls.

It's not that I lack motivation. I just can't get past this sense of futility in life, in love, in only eating one Pringle. I am not depressed or super discontent or anything except discouraged and mired in fear.

Every step forward seems to be met with a donkey kick backwards.

I don't like that theme.

Maybe I should do something with all these drafts. I just don't know what yet.

...between the poles and the Equator, don't send a private investigator to find me please...

Pink Verdana. My favorite font. Yes, I have one of those. It's really only the beginning of what is wrong with me. Friends don't let friends have font preferences. I think Moses wanted that on the tablets but unfortunately he has chosen a 12pt Courier New and had to leave it off. 

Algorithms bother me as well. It's more than a little creepy that I should queue up Michael Penn's "No Myth" and YouTube should recommend a dozen and a half songs that I would have probably picked myself as a follow up. Granted, it probably never saw that I would randomly pick to listen to "The Crab Song" by Faith No More...but now that I have whoa YouTube is onto me big time. Drats! 

Imagine me with a twisted frowny face that can not possibly be replicated with symbols. Yeah. It's been that kind of week. I am not even sure why I let myself get excited about possibilities. They are not endless and always do seem to end. Sprouting more gray as I type, that is how fabulous I am right now. 

Sigh. 

Sitting here the last couple of days, uber-depressed, ultra-uncertain and uniquely despondent. There's not really any sort of theological or philosophical nudging that is going to the fix the broken that this is. If you missed the post the other day, then you missed that I have been reading old writings which only serve to amplify how not okay, not better, not progressing life really is. 

I should not have to go Captain Dan everyday of my life. So tired about hearing about how it has to be bad so you are grateful for the good. I was never ungrateful for the good! I think the events of the last four years are unduly cruel...unless, of course, God's plan for me is to create a woman who makes Madalyn Murray O'Hair look like a sweet, little Daisy scout. If that is the plan, then yes, all of this makes perfect sense.

I regret that I ever tried to do anything productive with my life. I genuinely regret the time I wasted going to college. College took so much time away from Jordan. I could have been a better mother to her...it was supposed to be okay. The time away was all going to be worth it. College was supposed to afford us things that I supposedly would have never been able to provide with only a high school education. I had so much hope...

It's hard, you know, having my kids spaced as they are. I can't look at the youngest and think he has a bright and limitless future ahead of him because all I can remember is how I looked at the oldest through those rose-colored shades and how despite my hard-work and best efforts...not, didn't really happen. 

I just don't even know what the hell I am supposed to do anymore. Completely give up? Let all our shit go, declare bankruptcy, go on welfare and numb myself with a state-funded addiction to painkillers and anti-anxiety medication? (For the record, the fantasy addiction is not a current addiction. We can barely afford our insurance, let alone the cost of actually using it.) 

Really getting that wanderlust again. Get the hell out of Dayton and finding some place where there is a job market that wants me...or my husband...or my kid for that matter since she can't seem to get hired anywhere either. Existence is not supposed to be this hard. I know all about the lilies or whatever who never worry and everything is taken care of blah blah blah. 

I am not even sure why I write anymore. All it does is stir up my monkey rage. People don't want to read that. heck, people don't want to read when I am brilliantly funny either because I have loads of unliked statuses that fit in that category. I was thinking about forcing myself to be more disciplined with my writing, but what's the point? I mean, I am my biggest fan...unless there are lurkers who have built shrines to me in cluttered plasticware cupboards. 

I dunno. I just can't do this. Not without heavy sedation. So that when this descent finally ends with a thud, I'll be too far gone to feel the pain of impact.

Reluctantly crouched at the starting line, Engines pumping and thumping in time.

Going the Distance by Cake is in my head for some reason right now. Oh yeah, it's because I am wondering how things are all going pan out. Nothing about life is truly linear, I realize that, but I do sometimes wonder if I am spinning my wheels or if maybe point J is going to be crossed before point B or something like that.

I have spent the better part of the last two hours writing for Enpde. It's not really a non-paying gig since he makes the money to buy the food. When I sit down to write for him or myself or anyone else for that matter, it is that step out in faith that it's not all in vain. It's hard to ghostwrite. It's hard to have been given carte blanche. That's a lot of pressure really. I can do anything I want in the name of enpde. You have no idea how terrifying that is.

I had been thinking about some sort of Flag Day post for myself but it seems so irrelevant. I have a hard time writing for myself. I have noticed that I wax and wane between focused and unfocused.

Sigh...

Earlier tonight, I had a friendly "while your qualifications were good" email. I am so tired of those. It is completely unnecessary and a bit hard to believe. It was an administrative support position. To say my qualifications were good...well, that's like saying Marlon Brando is an okay actor. Not braggin' just sayin'. It 'twas part time and would have been interesting. Haters. Talk to the hand.

So, either I am completely delusional about my work skills and abilities or the universe is...no has been consistently telling me something for the past three years. Ugh, but it's not like explicitly telling me exactly what my calling is...only whispering that a cooped up office is no place for a pretty girl like me and teasing me with opportunities.

Darn those opportunities! Right now, it's just this blog and my work with Enpde. Oh and a hundred million other direct sales offers. Shrug. I dunno. I don't think I have a good personality for any sort of sales. Actually, when I was in college, there was a marketing class that was mandatory, I forget what it was called, but we had to do fundraising as a way to learn sales and cold calling and what not. Half way through the quarter, my partner declared that if I had to work sales I would starve if I wasn't selling something I could 110% get behind. It's true, really, we were fundraising for a children's charity and I just couldn't do it. I know cold-hearted, right? Not really, just not in a good place at the time to care about dying kids when I had a perfectly healthy one who I was struggling to provide for.

I know so many smart people who seem to be struggling. This isn't anything like the brochure. Hard work used to equal reward, now I don't know. I tried for awhile to be a mom to myself and chant "hardwork is it's own reward" but as I mentioned, I'm not very good in sales so I wasn't buying it.

I honestly need like bright neon signs and a burning bush to point me in the right direction. I feel drifty and I do really stupid shit when I feel drifty. 

Cold and rainy outside...

It kind of fits my mood today.

Have you ever just felt like you were stuck in some weird situation where every turn you made somehow never got you out? Like some sick and twisted life labyrinth without the entertainment benefit of David Bowie.

A little over two years ago, we decided that we wanted/needed to move. I loved my little house in Southern Hills but it was just that little. Plus, development on the outskirts of the neighborhood coupled with the whole economy/foreclosure crisis had changed the flavor of the neighborhood for the worse. So, we did everything you're supposed to do to get your house in order and put it on the market.

We had lookers but no takers which in the beginning was okay because we had not found a place that we liked. Then, July 3, 2010 we went to look at two houses on the same street. The first one on paper was my house. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, basement and no rear neighbors. Unfortunately, once inside it wasn't workable. The bedrooms were okay, but the second bathroom was just a toilet and half sink in the basement...no walls around it, just sitting there in the basement. So, we walked down to the second house which was across the street and four or so doors down. On paper, I wasn't crazy about it. I think a lot of that is that it was a Cape Cod and it looked just like a Hillcrest house.

Once inside though, it was a different story. Four bedrooms plus a study, two bathrooms, no basement but it didn't really matter because there was soo much room for activities. So, we put in an offer and hoped that everything would work out.

In the course of everything that happened from that day to the day we closed, we were advised to consider converting our little house into a rental. There is a whole lot around that decision that I am not going to get into but we are wondering now about the quality of consultation and service we have received over the last 18 or so months.

Our tenant moved out at the end of March. The entire time we had a tenant we had a property manager, and I use that term extremely loosely. See, the whole point of paying a licensed real estate professional to act on our behalf was to tap into that professional knowledge and hopefully hedge ourselves against some renters from hell nightmare.

I can't really get into details because we are still exploring our options as far as how to proceed. As this ball of yarn unwinds we are finding that it's a tangled mess. We fired our so called property manager. I am entirely not sure what he effectively did or why he completely failed to inform us of things that we should have been advised of....like rental registration. It would have been nice to have known that when we converted to a rental we were obligated to notify the county auditor of the change. Why would it have been nice? Well, apparently the city has been to our other property repeatedly for violations by tenants. How did we find out? When my husband stopped by the other house yesterday there was a notice taped to the door.

There is a right way and a wrong way to deal with this. It is taking every ounce of my being not to post all sort of bad review all over this page and the internet at large. I am mad as hell. I am completely disappointed at the complete lack of integrity exhibited by our former real estate agent and the previous tenants. I wonder, actually, I am fairly certain that there might be an undisclosed conflict in terms of the relationship between the former agent and the tenants.

I feel better getting that off of my chest. Thanks for listening and pray that I don't do something stupid in the course of dealing with other people's BS.

And I, I am feeling a little peculiar

I remember when top hats and aviator goggles were all the rage. Hell, I remember when 4 Non-Blondes were all the rage.I remember a lot, sometimes the downside of getting older.

I don't know what was the bigger appeal of this group, the lyrics, the name or the fact that it was some girls I could relate to. All of the above I guess...maybe. I remember listening to "What's Up" a lot with my friend, Julie. I remember it meaning a lot more when I was 25. "25 years of my life and still
Trying to get up that great big hill of hope For a destination."  And now here I am, ten years past twenty five still pondering that meaning.

I do feel peculiar. Moreso than I care to admit most days. But yeah, it always amazes me how much I don't fit in sometimes. And that's with trying to!!

I guess, the impetus for all this is my recent evaluation that I have amounted to nothing. It's not melodrama. I try and try and try and do not yield the same fruits as others seem to yield doing the exact same or less then I am attempting.

 ...one day my dad said "Bobby you are 17, it's time to throw childish things aside" and I said "OK Pop", but he didn't really say that he said that "Stop being a fucking dinosaur and get a job".
Maybe it's time to stop being a dinosaur.Granted, I never a got a paycheck from my last job. But maybe the point of life is that everyone is miserable all the time and no body really ever gets to do what they want. Least, that's how I am seeing it. 'Cuz I dunno, really, seriously, I've laid a lot of ground work to this magical forest I thought existed and where I am standing right now, seems like all I did is waste a lot bread laying my path.

I am not trying to be a downer. It's just where I am at right now, in this moment. I thought I was following a "calling" but more and more it seems like maybe I am just delusional.

You Tube, Google, Facebook, oh my! (Or how I let the life get sucked from my day.)

It has come to my attention that I have entered the time suck zone of my computer activities. Ok, so it has been in my sphere of attention for awhile but recently, it has mushroomed into a big issue.

It's not so much gaming. I don't really do any of that from my computer anymore. No, I prefer to lay in the comfort of my bed and play mah jong and poker on the Roku. I tried to keep up with some of those Facebook games, but there really does reach a point where they become unmanageable without me getting a smartphone and playing every waking second of the day.

My biggest issue with Facebook these days is that everyone seems to have forgotten how email works combined with everyone wanting to conduct business in groups. I am in a number of groups that are more business than pleasure, but inherently the problem is even with my super fast reading ability it still takes forever to glean information. So much bs clogging everything these days, IMO. It doesn't matter what group it is there seems like there is always someone spamming the board with their nail wraps and diet miracles. And sadly, they won't quit doing because it's working. I only wish I had that kind of time. The kind of time to put out links in such a sheer volume that the numbers would have to work in my favor.

Do I succumb to the obnoxious stream of media campaigning and get on board with a smart phone or some other web-enabled technology? Or do I go the other way and just say to hell with it all and go "off grid" so to speak? Is being plugged in just an illusion of progress? I wish I could answer that but I have a whiny boy curled up next to the laptop who needs clothes stat!

Sixteen Candles rotting my sponge-like brain that looks like a pinata

A little bit of an unintended hiatus there. Seriously, seriously off track...but the good news is my husband assures me that once he gets going this is going to be better than our wildest dreams.

True confession time...I often...while alone in my vehicle pop this CD and play this song at maximum volume. This is one of those songs... When it came out, I loved it. I didn't fully understand it but nonetheless looooved it. Flash forward, um, a few years...this isn't a song that I have listened to religiously but rather one I rediscovered. On some levels, I can see my life playing out as the video.

I know, my life as the video. How crazy! Then, this song was a catchy tune with a pop culture reference. Now, well, now I am an old married lady who has been on both sides of the "I wish I loved you" conundrum. A whole lot this song makes me think of someone with whom I was associated with on and off. I guess there is this whole thankful melancholy for me surrounding that song. I can wistfully remember those days of yore when seemingly dreamy guys continually fell short in the shining armor department. I am so glad that I do not have to worry about that kind of rejection and insecurity anymore.

But that whole "I wish I loved you" ugh, for me, even as a happily married woman it invokes such a feeling for me, a memory. When I hear those lyrics, my brain goes to specific moments in time that I was on either side of those lyrics more or less. I think that may actually be the worst feeling in the world...to be the person saying that. I have been on the other side, and it hurts but I think it's worse to be the deliverer of such news. The times I can think of in my life where that was the case, I did feel so awful that despite all else that part just didn't click.

I should probably find a new song to blast. These things go in cycles for me anyway. But what, what should be my next song? I think I have learned all I needed to from this one. It is certainly nice to think about these memories and be Mrs.Wolfe. If any of those non-reciprocating jokers had loved me, then I would be stuck with them right now. I believe stuck is the right word because well, I know...knew them. I can not imagine that I would be nearly as happy had things been different.

I do mean that. Both about the happiness and these things going in cycles for me. Not so long before Molly, the blasted song was Garbage "When I Grow Up". I wish I was half as hot as Shirley Manson. Most days I feel like I look more like Marilyn Manson. Perhaps, I need to latch on to "I Feel Pretty" from West Side Story. But yeah, for some reason, that Garbage song really resonated with me for a long time. I think most of it was in an ironic way, but still.

As I am writing this, I realize that I think that the new song obsession is already fading in, I just hadn't realized it. I don't know though, if I am ready to admit my love affair with Oasis, though. "Roll With It" is in heavy rotation, just as heavy as "Molly" so maybe that's the one. Hmm, in light of the fact that I was singing it, it's more than a maybe...

...oh, who knows...

Enjoy the Sponge video that doesn't end with Bob Square Pants! I know for some of you a sponge without square pants is a real treat!