Jacqui (jacqui) wrote,

A Semi-Bad Day That Stared Poorly and Ended Well

You ever have one of those days that just isn't going right? Not a bad day but just an off day? I know you have, we all do, well, this has been one of those days for me. Blech. It's the kind of day you look back on when you're really miserable, when you have food poisoning and are lying on the floor by your toilet writhing in pain, or there's been a terrorist attack, a space shuttle has exploded, an earthquake has shaken all of your art off of your walls, or a good friend calls to tell you they have cancer and you think, "What the hell was I complaining about? If I could go back in time and freeze my life forever on that one day I would be ecstatic. I would tell myself to count myself lucky and thank God for that day." A not so terrific but what the hell are you complaining about kind of day.

I had so many plans, so many calls I was going to make, errands I would run, things that would get done and be out of my way for good, but when my sleep gets messed up it throws everything off. I look at my stiff aching hands, feel my hurting neck, shoulders, back, knees, hips, legs, even my skin and hair that hurts and think, "Poor me," and then I lovingly snap myself out of it. I managed to squeeze a one hour nap in there, (Nap? Naps are for old people. Why, yes they are, I must be old,) that would have been two if Anna hadn't cheerily popped into my bedroom saying, "Two hours, you said two hours."

She has this horrible case of selective hearing and I'm tempted to make her repeat everything I say to her just to make sure she got it right the first time around because when you have to tell somebody something three and four times before they get it right it tends to drive you a wee bit buggy. I could give you examples but why bother, it would waste too much of our time. What I should do is tell you the good things about Anna so you'd be just as torn and conflicted as I am. I always forget to do that, like girlfriends chatting about their boyfriends when they've had a fight. They always forget to tell you how smart or kind he is, how good he is in bed or how he said something or did something really sweet and generous when they're complaining about what a ball scratching, ass farting pig he is.

Right about now you're thinking, "How lucky am I to have made the cut from the people who piss off and alienate Jacqui to those who remained on her ungainly seven hundred member long friend's list?" Or maybe not, maybe you're thinking, "My God this chick can ramble," or "Eeeewww, ass farting, I'm outta here." But what I wish you were thinking is, "Damn she's funny, I'm going to help her edit all of this down to a tight five, ten, and then a thirty minute stand up routine so she can finally make some money doing what she's good at," which would be performing and making people laugh and cry while tossing in the occasional tidbit of wisdom. It wouldn't matter much that I'm somewhat fucked up because hey, we all are, especially artists, performers and comics, oh Lordy comics are the worst, some of the most depressed people you're ever likely to meet, and don't get me started on clowns. I don't ever want to be ass-ociated with clowns, (with the exception of French mimes, Anna's friend Ducky, and assorted sex clowns and freaks), long, long story there.

Pardon me here while I take some vitamins and shoot some vitamin B gel up my nose because my split cow stomach won't absorb it properly anymore when taken the usual way. The cats say hello by the way. All the rest of my pets are too busy grooming to bother with friendly greetings.

Anyway on the subject of my semi-bad day I had to buy one of those car divider gate things that keep dogs in the back because I can tell that Anna is never going to be comfortable enough to drive around with the dogs loose in the car, even though as soon as we got in they nicely hopped to the back and sat there smiling in that adorable doggy way of theirs. I can easily set it up myself but in an effort to get Beau to understand that, as he gets older he needs to take on more responsibilities around here, I asked him to do it.

He was great about it, agreed pretty much right away and went down to set it up, but then a few minutes later he came back upstairs looking for a Band-Aid. Apparently his friend Stephen, (the one who kicked him out of the band a few days before Mother's Day and his birthday, and who he subsequently made up with), who has this wild, rebellious side, and who sometimes scares me, decided to stab the box that the gate came in, repeatedly. I've seen him do this before and asked him to stop but he's got problems, is full of abandoned child rage, and this must be one of the things he likes to do to get it out of his system. So he was doing this stupid and dangerous thing, Beau had asked him to stop several times, and then he tried to take the knife away from Stephen and wound up getting cut, just a little cut, but still, this is the kind of thing that would freak pretty much any parent out.

I really love this kid because frankly who don't I love, and kids are the easiest. I've known him since he was soooo little and even though he has problems, (his Mom is a complicated but well meaning rageaholic who tries really hard to improve herself spiritually and be a good Mom to him, even though they constantly yell, "Fuck You" at each other, and his Dad not only abandoned him before birth but tried to fight paternity in court), Beau loves him and I just don't see myself banning the little monster any time soon. I do worry about what he'll be like when he's older though.

I've gotta say I'm starting to enjoy the whole Friends Only deal, it's liberating in a way.

Beau is starting to withhold things from me because he doesn't want me to get involved and be motherly or parental with his friends. It makes him feel small and powerless. He's afraid that they're going to call him a pussy. I hate the use of words that describe female anatomy in any but the most friendly of ways and this whole male bashing by using these words in anti-female and sometimes homophobic ways really makes me angry. It's so prevalent that sometimes I catch myself about to say it, ("Oh stop being such a pu... umm, baby") and have to stop myself.

Of course when something dangerous happens I have to step in and say something whether Beau wants me to or not, but it's hard because I know how upset and betrayed Beau is going to feel when I have to do it and I can just hear the wheels turning, "I am never going to tell her anything again." I was so naive when I had Beau, I was also arrogant, (No, not me, arrogant?) I thought I was going to succeed where so many other parents had failed -- find that perfect balance between discipline and love, boundaries and freedom, and being the superior, super intelligent and empathic bee that I am, I would breeze through parenthood raising the next president, Olympic Athlete, or self supporting artistic genius. Hey, it might still happen if I cross my fingers long enough ; ) I'm not saying I'm a bad parent, far from it, I think I'm pretty devoted and loving and Beau, despite some of his teenagery behaviors, is a really great kid, I'm just saying that I was naive when I thought it was going to be so much easier than it is.

Ana V. and I, and I'm sure a lot of other people here on the net, have a friend who is quadrapalegic, he's had some really awful things happen to him, and here I am with the full use of all of my limbs and senses. I just say this so you'll know that I am fully aware of how lucky I am to be breathing and I am always in mind of this when I whine and bemoan my silly little problems. On the other hand I do have a couple of serious health challenges and I don't want to diminish them either. Now if someone could find a way to communicate to cats that they really don't need to pee all over my pillows and purses to show each other that they own me, we'd be swell.

Anna and I went to my favorite Japanese shopping center to get drinks for the kids but they were closed. No boba, awwwww, so sad. But we did buy a lot of weird things from the Japanese market which is always fun. Seventy-five percent of the time I only have the vaguest idea of what we're getting. No one there can ever tell us what things are, especially with the candies. I'll ask someone what something is and it'll go a little like this, "Hi, umm, excuse me, can you tell me what this is" "Yes, that's candy." "Mmm hmm, yeah, I kind of figured that part out myself but what flavor is it." "It's candy."

"It's nice to be a watermelon pig. We can eat watermelon as much ass. we want. Because we live in watermelon hills."

We bought little tea cakes, Jell-O and puddingy things and I got some kind of vitamin C candy -- sour 3,000 mg. peach flavored jellybeans in a very cute container. Some of the phrases on these things, where they've tried to translate them into English are so funny. I wish I had them here with me in bedroom right now so I could read them to you. I haven't been to that Engrish website in a long time, I'll go see if I can find it and link to it for you.

"Oh fair, Oh honey. My dear sweet fairy. Bring me a tiny peace. It's my pleasure to be knocked."


The rest of my day turned out to be pretty darned sweet. The dogs were happy with their new hair cuts and looked great. I had fun working out at Curves and afterwards I had dinner with Atra, Arta and Maryam, which was nice. I just finished watching The West Wing, a Christmas episode where the Wippenpoofs sing at the end. I joined them in singing one of my favorite songs, Oh Holy Night, and I sang my heart out, blending my voice with theirs. It felt so good to be singing full out, I miss singing so much. But the cats went nuts. Whenever I sing they come running up to me mewing and biting as if the sound either interests them or really hurts their ears. Anyone know why cats do that? It can't be that I'm off key because I know I'm not, I'm a really good singer, really, I used to have all the leads in my school's musicals. Maybe it's because their hearing is so good that certain notes hurt them. They don't like it when I raise my voice or sound upset in any way, that gets them stirred up and biting. It's so funny to see, I wish I could show you.

I transferred all of my New York pictures to my computer as well as pictures I took of one of the possums sitting on my shoulder and then on my head and a bunch of pictures of the cats sitting on my bed. I want to upload and link them to my journal but I can't seem to get CuteFTP to hook up with my website from this computer, I don't know why. I could just edit the pictures, then e-mail them to my office computer and upload them from there, but I so wanted to do it tonight. Oh well...

It's so hot here, still and it's after midnight. AND I still love Margaret Cho, I want to eat her and not in a sexual way, or maybe I do, who knows. She's getting her hair cut on a repeat of Blow Out that I'm watching. God she's funny, but I don't know why she's been doing this kind of black slangy accent lately. (I don't even know how to write that without worrying about offending someone.) Has anyone else noticed this? She did it a lot in her latest stand up act and to be totally honest, while it's only occasionally funny, for the most part, it gets a little tired because she does it sooo much and she's not that good at it. It makes me uncomfortable and prickles my uptight PC sensibilities for some reason, I'm not even sure why. I guess I'm just worried that it's going to hurt someone's feelings because she's so relentlessly making fun of people who speak this way. And I thin she's just having fun and enjoys playing with the rhythm of speaking this way.

All right that's way more than enough blabbing for one day. Beau is here and wants to talk a bit before going to bed : )

Big loving hugs,

PS: Oh noooo here comes the post workout neck hurting pain, waaaaaa, and I won't take pain meds anymore so I just have to deal with it, owwww.

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