cindy's world

I had a bad night last nite. 🙁 It still amazes me the level of emotional drama people will work themselves into and then throw at me. Thank goodness for being able to just hang up the phone when it becomes obvious that it’s just straight hysteria on the other end, once it became obvious that the person had actually walked away from the phone to have said hysteria, altho I had to deal with the guilt of that all nite. Also, it was freezing last nite. I’m surprised I woke up this morning at all (especially since my alarm wasn’t set — it turns out — all week); I thought I’d die of hypothermia. When I walked out of my bedroom this morning, I realized it was just my bedroom that was THAT cold. My cat was comfortably curled up in his sheepwool-lined cat bed in the upstairs hall, overlooking the lower level, where he can be master of all he surveys. Except that he’s not surveying much beyond the tip of his tail, curled up in a “C”.

I was listening to a morning talk show on my way in to work this morning. They had Darryl Hannah on talking about how she has an old El Camino automobile that she runs on recycled fast food vegetable oil. They asked her what conversion she did with her engine to take that for fuel, and she said none. Turns out that all diesel engines can run off vegetable oil, that diesel engines were invented in 1900 to run off peanut oil, and it’s cleaner-burning than petroleum and does not give off reactive organic gases (“greenhouse gas,” she called it, the stuff that reacts with sunlight to create smog). She said the byproduct toxicity is something in between that of table salt and maple syrup. Her engine runs smoother and quieter, and she gets better mileage, too. She did admit, however, that her car exhaust sometimes smells like French fries. Why aren’t we all doing this? Aside from the fact that my car doesn’t take diesel. I think the heavy tankers and big rigs should run off vegetable oil.

Speaking of big rigs, a juror in our trial called in this morning saying she was running late because all the major freeways were jammed due to two major incidents which, according to her, are on the news. The first is a big rig that flipped over and killed a guy. The second, according to the juror, was caused by a guy getting robbed by some other guys, and the victim chased the robbers down the freeway (presumably in their respective cars), and the robbers ended up shooting him. Ick.

Sometimes I wonder whether the way people treat me has anything to do with me at all. Maybe they cubbyholed me into a certain group because I remind them of someone else in that group. Maybe someone cozied up to me really quickly not because I was recognized as someone trustworthy and valuable, but because I just happened to plug into the outline of someone lost and missing from this person’s life. As if I were just a continuation of someone else. If that is the case, then the set of rules and behaviors applied to me and expected of me may not be a fit, which disparity just makes the person disappointed or angry. It makes me sad when I see this. I don’t want to be someone’s surrogate sister, daughter, best friend, mother, wife or partner the 2nd day I’m with them. See me. Have a relationship with me. If it develops into something like a sister, daughter, best friend, etc., that’s fine. I think it’s sad for me because I can see that the behaviors and definitions came too quickly, too unnaturally, and I’m afraid that when the person realizes I’m not who I’m presumed to be, then that person will walk away as I lose meaning for that person…but that person wouldn’t have lost meaning to me.

I walked into jujitsu yesterday wearing my UCLA jacket. The first thing the instructor did upon seeing me was turn to another student next to him and say, “I keep forgetting to bring in a handicap parking placard for her.”

I would love to argue that, but I can’t, considering I’m aware of certain people I was very close to in college abusing handicap placards back then, who still does it to this day. =P

Apparently the USC Cheerleaders have been on the news giving the top 5 reasons why USC will beat UCLA on Saturday, the best one in my opinion being “Because we play the entire game, not just the final 4 minutes.” UCLA’s Cheerleaders gave 5 reasons why we’d win them, but the only one I know about is “Your men wear skirts,” which I suppose is a comeback to what they said about how we’re pansies in powder blue.

P.S. As an afterthought, I thought I’d give a bit of background to readers who are not local to Southern California, or familiar with university sports rivalries. UCLA (my alma mater) is the cross-town rival of the private university USC. UCLA’s mascot is the Bruin bear; USC’s is the Trojan. Thus, all the jokes about Trojan condoms (“A Bruin is forever, but a Trojan is only good once.”), and about their armor resembling a skirt. And a few years ago, a story hit the news that some doctors local to UCLA would significantly lessen the standard for declaring students physically handicapped before giving them a handicap parking placard — for a fee — which some students abuse to park in the very hard-to-park Westwood area. My favorite rivalry item is a burgundy T-shirt with a yellow square in the middle, and in the square is a yellow profile of a trojan. It looks exactly like the typical USC shirt with USC colors, except if you look closely at the letters on top of the square, instead of saying “USC” it says “SUC.” Oh, the reference to UCLA playing the last 4 minutes is due to the fact that we have pretty bad defense, and in the games this year, we’d let the other team score on us until a hail-Mary type comeback in the end when we’d turn the game around and win based on offense alone. Our colors are blue and gold, but in the early days of UCLA when newspaper photographs were black and white, UCLA’s athletic department realized powder blue photographed better in b&w, so they made their uniforms powder blue, altho to this day our official colors are still a sort of royal blue and gold.

The November statistics barely beat the October stats in hits. October: 26,309 total hits. November: 26,891 total hits. I was totally rooting toward the end of November, trying to — by mental prowess alone — push the bar graph higher so that November’s bar gets just a little higher than October‘s. It didn’t happen until the very last day of November.

There are some new countries and sources this month, but in the lead are some of the same countries. The US first, then Sweden with 4.38% of total hits, then Australia (0.55%), Cocos (Keeling) Islands (0.53%), and then Canada (0.42%). I hadn’t heard of Cocos (Keeling) Islands, but I looked it up online and it’s beautiful! What waters! US Military, welcome! I saw on the stats for today that there are some of our best and bravest, stationed in Kuwait, giving me a visit. Hi!!

For the rankings of the top 30 of 39 (5 more than October!) total countries/sources, click on the “more”:
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We had a sheriff witness yesterday that didn’t sh0w up as subpoenaed because he was attending a colleague’s funeral in another county. That prompted my judge to tell me about a fiasco that happened a few years ago between a (semi-local) sheriff and a girl in a situation that escalated to a social war between the government and the public.

A bunch of sheriffs attended a wake after a colleague’s funeral, and they were at a bar afterwards drinking and doing guy stuff. One of these sheriffs started talking to a girl, and the two of them, both drunk, went outside and had sex somewhere. The story’s vague as to whether the sheriff took her somewhere, or they just did it in his car. Anyway, the girl walked away from the car and was understood that she would walk home, and the sheriff drove home to his family. Yes, he was a family man. Shortly after the sheriff left the girl, the girl’s “pimp boyfriend” as my judge called him, not sure if he meant literally, appeared from where he’d been following the two cheaters unbeknownst to them both, and killed the girl. The damning DNA evidence pointed to the sheriff as the killer because he had just been with her, altho the sheriff was never convicted. The public was outraged. There was even a segment on Connie Chung’s news show and there was practically a protest movement that wanted the sheriff canned for the murder of this girl, and the world believed that he was a sick murderer who got away with it scott-free. (Who’s Scott? Where did this saying come from? I guess he was free.) This got carried farther and farther, into wrongful death lawsuits against the Sheriff’s Department, other civil rights actions, and it raged for 3-5 years. Finally, finally, it was somehow proven or discovered that the real murderer is the girl’s boyfriend.

The judge was surprised I don’t know about this fiasco. I’d never heard anything of it before. My very moral, very proper judge is of the viewpoint that when these male scumbuckets get together in a bar, no good comes of it. I feel bad for the sheriff, who altho he deserves to get crap for cheating on his wife (but that’s between them only), did not deserve to be blamed for a girl’s murder and be sued and have all the negative life-altering events that ensued in public. This is also how I feel about Kobe Bryant’s fiasco. He’s an awful person, maybe, and an awful husband, but to have that girl create lawsuit after lawsuit to be paid off, claiming rape, and he lost all those endorsement contracts and had to buy his wife that huge rock and buy her mom that house…is a piece of arse worth THAT much? And what about President Clinton and his indiscretion? He’s an awful husband, but it doesn’t mean he should be IMPEACHED from office due to an affair with an intern. I know, I know, the “technical reason” for the push for impeachment was that he perjured himself on the stand. But still. I think the nation was just angry that he’s not — or at least couldn’t keep up the appearance of — the great leader whom we as a country want to be associated with; he subjected himself to a legal circus that had the entire world laughing at us. And you think the damage stopped at the courthouse steps? No. It’ll never be over. It rages on at home. It rages on in people’s jokes. It rages on in the histories of the country and of the family. A smear forever, perhaps lasting generations.

…for a piece of ass?!

People, people. Weigh the potential damage against the potential pleasure. Be more far-sighted. Prevention is key. Remember Richard Gere and Diane Lane in Unfaithful?

I’m sorry to pound the cheating issue into you guys, my dear readers, but I think it, like smoking, is one of the most preventable and most damaging self-sabotages.

Hey, I just saw that I passed 30,000 hits on the hit counter! 30,013. Let’s celebrate! Ice cream, anyone?

All right, all right, I’m just looking for any ol’ excuse to eat ice cream. (Only people older than 19 got the title.)

I’m not sure if I have jujitsu today. Jujitsu for this quarter either ended last Wednesday, or it’s ending this Wednesday. I missed last Wednesday because I was making my lowfat, low-cal chocolate cheesecake for Thanksgiving the next day.

Oh, speaking of the cheesecake, I had made 2 and frozen one. I brought that one to work today, along with a can of the lite chocolate Reddi Whip (15 calories per 2 tablespoons!) and the lite Hershey’s chocolate syrup. It was a huge success. So either I’m a really good cook, or County workers will eat anything. I know the latter statement is pretty true. Hmm. Can A and B both be true simultaneously? =P

I was driving home about an hour ago, missing you because I hadn’t heard from you, and feeling exhausted from the sleepless nights, the emotional stress (I lost 2.5 pounds this weekend already, from doing nothing) and the very awkward obstacle(s) I dealt with around noon. Then this song came on and made me smile, because it’s you, it’s us…

CHANCES ARE (from the Hope Floats soundtrack)
Bob Seger and Martina McBride

Bob:
Chances are you’ll find me
Somewhere on your road tonight
Seems I always end up driving by
Ever since I’ve known you
It just seems you’re on my way
All the rules of logic don’t apply

I long to see you in the night
Be with you ’til morning light

Martina:
I remember clearly how you looked
The night we met
I recall your laughter and your smile
I remember how you made me
Feel so at ease
I remember all your grace and your style

And now you’re all I long to see
You’ve come to mean so much to me

both:
Chances are I’ll see you
Somewhere in my dreams tonight
You’ll be smiling like the night we met
Chances are I’ll hold you and I’ll offer
All I have

You’re the only one I can’t forget
Bob:
Baby you’re the best I’ve ever met

both:
And I’ll be dreaming of the future
And hoping you’ll be by my side

Bob:
And in the morning I’ll be longing
both:
For the night, for the night

both:
Chances are I’ll see you
Somewhere in my dreams tonight
You’ll be smiling like the night we met
Chances are I’ll hold you and I’ll offer
All I have

You’re the only one I can’t forget
Baby you’re the best I’ve ever met

You know what blows my mind? How men seem to be able to continue a relationship in which they were cheated on. How do you ever look at your mate the same when you know they’ve cheated on you? How do men just put that aside in their heads? I know I can’t ever be at peace in a relationship in which cheating was involved, even if the cheating happened a year before I got evidence of it. I know it seems unfair that the reality of cheating or betrayal is that it takes 20 years to undo (if you’re lucky) the 20 minutes spent destroying the trust. I’ve seen women so insecure and so needy that they went ahead and married the guy who cheated on them hoping it’d lock the man down, and I can tell you, in that marriage there is still no peace. It doesn’t even matter if the guy’s cheated recently; the fact that the trust had been shattered once means there will always be scars and doubts in the woman’s view of the relationship. And the man will hear it and hear it, or see evidence of it in what he will call her “paranoia.”

I’ve often wondered whether the strength is in leaving, or in staying. For me, staying is pointless because there can be no resolution. The knowledge and the memory can never be undone. So then what’s the point? Why not just learn from this and move on to something with a clean slate?

I finally understood tonight that a man really doesn’t get why cheating is such a big deal; he’d stay and work on it if it were the other way around. But I don’t get it, it is huge for me, it is the ultimate betrayal within a relationship. It’s not a second of losing it in anger; it’s actively choosing to take someone over your mate and to actively hurt your mate through the entire act, and in the case of an affair, it’s the continuous choice to lie to, betray and cheat on your mate over a course of week, months, years. Yell at me, neglect me, abuse me in a relationship and I will at least give it a shot and see if we can get past this. But cheat on me, and I know the cracks of this damage will reach no end in time. Hate me for leaving something a man sees as salvageable, but I can only do right according to myself, and I know there is no getting past this.

2 hour 42 minute conversation. I really didn’t expect him to pick up, but he did. He spewed some, I listened, he tried to induce his reasoning, I tried to explain mine, we sighed. I still found some of his viewpoints incomplete, and I tried to put in a broader perspective, but he made me see that I just have to accept that there are narrow things he’s hung up on that he’s angry about (i.e. “the sabotage”), and that’s just how he’s going to feel, despite the context surrounding what he’s angry about. I told him I was told about his blog, and he said that it was just some stuff written during times when he was angry at me, and that he never denied on his blog that he was a horrible boyfriend and a horrible person to me before we got back together again. He offered to let me read it, but I avidly turned down the offer. I said that if he’s angry enough to still be spewing about me even now, on a blog, then maybe it’s faster for his mental progress to just spew at me directly. He actually appreciated that. It was a very controlled spewing, to give him credit. I hope he got out everything that had been boiling under the surface, so that there’s no more residual resentment.

I told him that I think his level of anger is like my prior level of fear and anxiety in the relationship. It’s sharp, it’s consuming, and the only relief you get is when for an hour, for some reason (probably exhaustion), your brain malfunctions and you don’t pass on the neurotransmitters to feel that pain, and you’re so high and happy simply because the pain isn’t there. But then it comes back because it’s always right there. “You can’t stay like that this long, you just can’t, it’ll kill you,” I told him.

He went on a long spiel about how he feels, what he thinks, and how he “knows” I hate him and I want to see him fail and I would love to see him fall on his face and lose his business. I let him go on until he was finished, and then said, and I really hope this sank in, that what he says of himself, I can only accept as he says it, HOWEVER, what he says about me, does he realize it came from him? None of it came from me? That he’s projecting and speculating about what I may be thinking, and that’s the equivalent of him picking up a dagger and stabbing himself with it, while at the same time claiming I threw the dagger. He’s not hearing me when I say I don’t hate him; he’s not hearing me when I say I don’t want him to fail. The world would be missing out on a great eye doctor if his business folded, and why would I be calling him, offering myself as a target, if I just want to see him miserable? It’s so much easier just to say, “He’s STILL pissed? All right! HA!” And I admitted to him, that was my initial reaction. “Let him hate me.” But I had been angry before, and he had said to me, “Go ahead, let it all out, beat me up with it.” I’m not sure if that really helped me, but hell, at least I could do that for him and see if it works for him. He wouldn’t believe that I didn’t hate him and am not wishing he’d “fall flat on his face” until I told him his magical phrases:

“I wish you the best.”
“This phone call is the first step in what I hope will help you find happiness.”

He told me he’s psychotic. I hope he finds balance and happiness, soon. I’ve been to the misery he’s in, it sucks.