Archive for March, 2006
I got this email from a friend:
Flo - I am not sure what I enjoy more, the content of the stories that you write or your creative style of writing. You should seriously think about finding a job that requires someone who knows how to write. So please do not ever tell your readers that you have writer’s cramp because I know that will disappoint them.
I enjoyed this comment because it came from someone who looked horrified (and insulted for men everywhere!) when he heard about my blog. Now, he checks in on a regular basis and misses my little stories whenever I don’t post. How cool is that?
As much as I appreciate the encouragement, I’m so tempted to write him back, “Thank you for complimenting my writing…but, dude, I’m not a writer.”
I said this to my best bud, Jean Luc, a few months ago. He countered with, “You have 700 readers a month who say otherwise.”
Let’s just take a moment to mull that over…seven. hundred. people. every month…I don’t think I KNOW seven hundred people! But thanks to the power of the internet, they know me! China, Russia, Saudi Arabi, Iran (whoa), South Africa, India, Brazil, England, Canada, and on and on and on. Its like the damn United Nations here at IXH!
While that’s interesting, and a really fun fact to mention at parties, it still doesn’t make me a writer. No, I totally rejected that notion until I got a second opinion.
It was a completely unsolicited comment from an honest to goodnesss writer, whose opinion I value and respect. When I tried to wave off that ‘writer’ label with him, he actually said that to deny it, “…might just be an added layer of delusion…” Ouch!
In other words, you’re a writer, Crazy Lady — like it or not!
It’s unclear if I’ll ever be comfortable in that role. Heck, I still struggle in this role as a separated woman. While I put my self in this position, it’s still a painful place to be. I left a comfortable lifestyle, lost friendships, and damn near went broke to be here alone in my funky old apartment…I don’t regret my decision. (Well, I did for about two days earlier this week, but I was having a verrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry bad couple of days! I plead temporary insanity!)
I could give you a thousand stories highlighting all the ways my soon to be ex-husband, Endicott, totally effed up in his role as husband/good guy to me, but I don’t need to do that anymore. It’s enough for me to say we weren’t compatible…That’s my story today. Who knows what I’ll write tomorrow?
Adios,
Flo
March 31st, 2006
I was changing into my work clothes — which look exactly like my casual clothes because that’s how formal my job is — last Tuesday when I caught my reflection in the mirror. For a good minute or two, I didn’t see myself the way I usually do; full of flaws, so many pounds overweight, two weeks overdue on my walks in the Canyon. I forgot about all of that, and just took a long look at this woman in front of me.
I’m no lesbian, but I gotta say, she looked pretty okay! Sure, she could stand to lose a little weight, but that wasn’t all that noticeable. Her long neck, broad shoulders — but not the least bit manly! — and her breasts were bare and…well, attractive.
I saw myself the way a new lover might see me for the first time. I wasn’t goofy, neurotic Flo, but an appealing, alluring woman; a participant in someone else’s adventures.
As I looked into my own eyes, I thought, “Gawd, I have GOT to stop reading that Bukowski book!”
That thought snapped me out of whatever hypnotic state I was in. Immediately, the insecurities and doubts resurfaced, and along with them, the promises to exercise this, lose that, and tone up a, b, c, and d returned.
After I dressed, I gathered up my purse and cell phone, ready to head out the door for the day, when I saw myself again in the mirror. I recalled that special, honest moment “we” shared. It was free of doubt, fear, and shame. It has been soooooooooooooo long since I felt that free and comfortable in my own skin. It was nice that when it finally returned, it was just for me; not the result of some man building up my confidence, convincing me that I am attractive and wanted. I saw myself for the woman I am — and I liked her…me…us.
But I’m still going back to the hiking trail!
See ya,
Flo
March 25th, 2006
A couple of days ago someone hurt my feelings.
I didn’t take it well. I was angry. No, that’s not right — at first, I was sad, then, five minutes later, I was pissed off.
I told my best bud, Jean Luc, all about it. He listened quietly to my story before asking, “…So what else is going on with you?”
“Oh no,” I thought, “he thinks I’m crazy!”
Could he be right? Am I overreacting here? Have I finally lost my damn mind? It’s completely possible. Given my recent health problems, I haven’t been thinking clearly. The pain made me supercranky; just ask my boss, Mr. B. Or better yet, ask Jean Luc. Yesterday, he told me, “You need to settle down.”
Whether I misinterpreted the situation or not, I was sad — and I wasn’t about to deny it. I let myself wallow in it! I moped around, replayed every single woulda/coulda/shoulda possibility in my head. None of it helped, of course, but I did it anyway.
Later that day, Jean Luc invited me over to his home for dinner. That was very generous given how unpleasant I must have been to be around. I had a twelve hour long headache, throbbing muscle pains up and down my neck and shoulders. The ibuprofen and vicodin weren’t working at all. I probably should have gone home, but I didn’t. I wanted to be with pleasant, caring people who liked me and wanted me around.
Towards the end of the evening, Jean Luc’s wife, the always fabulous, Maria, asked me what I was up to. Still in full self-pity mode, I told her who hurt my feelings and how. She replied, “Oh, that’s awful…It would be one thing if blah, blah, blah, but blah, blah, blah, then blah, blah, blah…I’m sorry.”
In that moment, with my splitting headache, I felt so comforted by her words…because she agreed with me! I couldn’t be crazy if she agreed with me! Right? Right! Yea! Even better, Jean Luc, piped in with, “He’s slimey…”
This morning, I jumped out of bed feeling good. Sure, I got kicked in the teeth. And yes, that sucked. But I finally realized I did nothing wrong in this situation. I was just myself. If someone can’t appreciate me and treat me right, then that person doesn’t deserve my friendship. Right?
When I spoke with my friend, Jerry, this morning, I told him what happened, especially my self-doubts.
“Dude,” I exclaimed, “I really thought I might have overreacted! I’ve been so wrong about so many things lately. I really thought I might be crazy.”
He said, “Oh no, Flo…I know crazy. Crazy is a friend of mine. And you’re not crazy!”
(Note: Jerry spent the last thirty years in theatre, so he really does know crazy.)
“I don’t know, man, sometimes I’m not so sure. Sometimes I think I live in Crazytown.”
“No, you’re not crazy. Sure, you’re driving along the freeway, but you keep passing the exits…Just keep passing the exits, Flo…”
“So I don’t actually live in Crazytown? I’m just Crazytown adjacent?!” I let out one of my huge window-shaking laughs.
“Yeah, you’ll pull off occasionally to get a burger, but you get right back on the freeway and drive out of town.” With a little too much knowing in his voice, he said, “The burgers are really good in Crazytown…That’s how they get you.”
So there you have it. I may not actually be crazy, but I do appear to be crazy tolerant.
Cuckoo-nutty Flo
March 24th, 2006
I can’t believe it’s been a month since I last updated this site. I’d write that time flew while I was having fun, but that wouldn’t be true. There’s nothing fun about my arthritis flare-ups.
While I’m not as sick as I was during my last post (my “pity post” is what my best bud, Jean Luc, called it), I’m still not well. The good news is that I’m taking my medications religiously, cutting down on “bad” foods (breads, sugars, nightshades plants), and seeing a chiropractor regularly for some relief. The not-so-good news is that those changes are not helping! I’m still feeling like crap…and acting like Ms. Crankypants.
I didn’t realize just how cranky I was until my boss, Mr. B said, “Hey Flosie, I know you’re back is hurting you, man, but I didn’t cause your pain…You’ve got to be nicer to me…”
Yes, I actually upset a lawyer from New York so much he had to ask me to play nice! So if anyone has written or phoned me recently, and I didn’t promptly reply, they should consider themselves lucky!…Actually, my soon-to-be ex-husband, Endicott, hasn’t responded to my repeated email requests to return my personal belongings. Maybe that was a good thing after all. Well, good for him…
Does not play well with others,
Flo
March 20th, 2006