A friend of mine who lives five houses away, a really kind, lovely, groovy-chic, skinny, mother of two, Laura-Croftish, two-long-black-braid-wearing, great interior design store on Montana owning, friend of mine, loaned me a precious yearbook from the grammar school we both went to. Her mother designed it. It's so sweet and has all of our pictures and little sayings and things in it.
It was so good and trusting of her to let me borrow it. Obviously it is very dear to her. So what do you think happened to it, in this great big house of cats, where I have two housekeepers who are too busy taking care of their own kids and problems to give a shit about me or my stuff?
Unhunh, yup, it got trashed. Well, first some thoughtful person took it out of the cabinet where I had safely stored it out of harms reach, and put it in a bag for me and stashed it away somewhere. Then it reappeared with a nice, big, coffee-brown stain on the back of it's neat, old fashioned, light blue paper page, which then seeped through to about three of the inside pages. I was mortified.
I couldn't bring myself to tell her this so determine to make it right I went around town looking for anyone who could help me fix the problem. I went to my favorite framing store where they told me their own restoration specialist wouldn't be able to do anything with it, and I needed a paper expert, so they gave me the number of one. They also gave me a nice padded envelope, which we thought would be better than the paper one I had put it in, so that no further damage of any kind could come to it. Then I called the paper specialist who turned out to be a totally snobby bitch, who basically told me to fuck off, because she couldn't be bothered to work on something as piddly and unimportant as a grammar school yearbook, no matter how much money I offered.
I called a friend who suggested I call the Getty. Then I called the Getty and asked them for recommendations. It went on and on until finally I got that the only way to make amends would be to try to apply a very weak bleach solution with a cotton ball to the back cover and the three inside corners, while at the same time scanning all of the inside pages and correcting the stains in Paint Shop or another program and then recreating the cover on somewhat similar paper stock, making her about five or six copies for her to save and give to friends, and then returning the damaged original with profuse apologies and flowers. I had it set aside in my car so that nothing could possibly happen to it in my cyclone of a house and somebody, grrrrrrr, decided it would better to take it out and lose it again.
A couple of days ago all of our kids were playing together and L. came in to my library to see the kittens. Whenever we are together I am always trying to work up the courage to tell her because God what must she think, that I'm a totally casual jerk who couldn't care less about something that is obviously dear to her? Well, this time I decided I couldn't stand it any longer and just blurted it out to her back as she was walking away. She was sooo nice about it and told me that she wouldn't care at all about the stain and just wanted it back. I apologized so much and then asked her if I could have just one week more to repair it.
So I was determined to take this week to find it and make things right no matter what it took. So this morning I come into my office, and what has suddenly appeared out of the blue and landed on my little side table, but the yearbook. Only now it is in even worse condition, the stain has been further soiled somehow and it is moist with mold and most of the pages are stuck together. Horrors!
I was so mad! I felt so angry that this one thing I had been so clear about wanting to take good care of was so mishandled by everyone who worked for me who came in contact with it. First Adelina moved it and left it somewhere where it became stained, then maybe Esther packed it away, then Hector took it out of my car after I'd found it again and stashed it where I thought it would be safe and Coco put it in my laundry room and allowed wet clothes to drip onto the top of it, and there it sat moulding away in the nice warm wet room. I feel like this must be some kind of metaphor for my life and how I let people treat me. I'm the yearbook.
To make matters worse, and add to my full plate of depression pie, I decided to call a friend about all of this, only to discover that another friend had made fun of me, and described personal things about my lifestyle in a negative light, in front of several other friends. Man I just want to pack my bags and move to Maui. I wish I had the money and the freedom. I am so sick of trusting people who simply do not deserve my trust or love. Today I really feel like a naive shmo.
You know I try to stay centered in the belief that your personal universe is really what you have created it to be, out of your beliefs and thoughts, and the power of your spoken word. But how does that explain the experience of believing in the goodness of people, only to discover that they are corrupt, rotten and selfish? Where am I going wrong; in the willingness to believe and put faith in people, or in the discovery, disappointment, and judgment? I mean should I just ascribe the hurtful things that people do to momentary lapses of judgment? Should I continue to have faith, and believe in the basic goodness of people, while being more protective of myself, or go with my instinct when it tells me that I was wrong, and that this is basically not a good person? God, I don't know. I can't tell, you know?
For years and years people told me that they thought my husband was a jerk, or that they didn't think he deserved me and I just wouldn't listen. I thought, they just don't know him. Of course he did eventually prove himself to be a total jerk. My problem is that I am just too fucking loyal and dedicated to the people I choose to love. That doesn't make me heroic. It just makes me a doormat.
I need to spend my precious energy on the people in my life who are loving and good to me. I need to focus my love on the people who have always been there and who have never let me down. I love you guys! You know who you are.
PS: Hey why don't you come see the journal of a real jerk? http://www.livejournal.com/users/imajerk/