Old Flames

There was a time when the guy that ditched you at prom or the chick that left you for your best friend simply disappeared from the radar...slipped out of your life, moved away, married someone else...out of sight, out of mind, anger healed, heart mended...gone.

Enter Facebook and that lot is suddenly dumped back into my lap! It's been exhausting to handle it with my signature calm. Cuts this old shouldn't be able to reopen. I've considered busting my rant out right here, right now.

(I had the perfect chance this morning...there was contact, an opening for a comment presented itself and my fucking dumb ass took the high road. Why!? Rationally, had I not been cast to the curb in that instance, my son probably wouldn't be here. I should be on my knees thanking that guy. Rationally as well, I know he got his in the end...)

Stupid stupid stupid me. I really need a job.

Being creatively neutered at the moment...

...I decided to find an anonymous penpal for intellectual correspondence and I promptly blew it. I guess I should have specified my intentions for the endeavor as he should have as well, but then the Craigslist heading under which he placed his ad was "Strictly Platonic" as in

strictly –adverb

in a strict manner; rigorously; stringently: strictly enforced.

platonic–adjective
purely spiritual; free from sensual desire esp. in a relationship between members of opposite gender.

So what the fuck, dude? One to two sentence answers with no regard for the spell check now inherent in most applications. No hobbies or interests. So yeah, no. Had to go for the throat.

"Did you just not have the balls to post under 'casual encounters' or did your completely inane prose net you no responses there?"

I did hold back. I even gave him the option to pretend to be interesting, but no. Back to the drawing board.

I've said the 'c' word three times today...

FFWD a few months since our last...

Lost my job. Thought I'd suddenly transform into June Cleaver and no. Learned how to make yeast bread and I've been cleaning the kitty box with astonishing regularity. Had a yard sale, but just ended up giving shit to people. "You're so cute! Have this Siouxie CD. No, really!"

Moreover, lack of funding signals the end of my reign as Queen of the Art Whores. Blast this one last painting off of layaway and I'm done. Fuck.