Plague 4th

There are more pops and cracks and fireworks flying here on the south side of YO tonight that what the city would set off downtown had Youngstown not canceled their annual event. Music in the background? Mandolin Rain.

Yeah, I’m in a mood… have been ever since a couple nights ago when the Vet sent me a link to an anniversary song, adding a note that he knows it’s not our anniversary but every day is… BULL, he just sent it to the wrong woman. We broke up two years ago on the 4th of July because he came in, tossed his keys on the kitchen table, asked me to warm up some BBQ and crawled into bed. So, I was messing in the kitchen and a glint caught my eye… whoa, how could I not notice a shiny new freshly cut house key next to mine on his key chain? Of course, I asked about it… he couldn’t think fast enough to tell me whose door it opened, so I took the key to my house off.

I told him that song made me sad… reminds me that 4th of July makes two years since I woke up next to him. No reply, just Messenger stickers… hugs and hearts, sweet dreams and love yous.

He STILL will not admit to anything. He likes to keep up delusions, pretends I don’t know, but he knows that I know everything as I have not minced any words and truth always rises, just like cream. The nearest he will come is to tell me that he sees life as a game, that to make it in this world, you have to play the game to get what you need.

So, he talks about her, calls her his “buddy” as if she’s some guy… that’s his buddy’s car, with plates that expire in her birth month. And his buddy does the same type of work that she does? Yeah, tell me another… he’s a poor man, a disable vet just barely getting by, income so low that there’s no way he could ever afford to pay rent and buy a car at the same time. And, here’s this woman offering wheels… an “old friend” who has had a crush on him since grade school, they grew up together, she’s knows his family, her twin was his brother’s best friend… blah, blah, blah… sad thing is she thinks, or so she posted, he’s the “love of mine life” and you know what? Maybe he is.

So, where does that leave me?

Home alone, making just two homemade tortillas for a couple leftover meat stuffed fajitas on a holiday. They turned out pretty good. At least, not too bad for a first try… never made tortillas before.

Truth be, we never were compatible enough to make a go of living together and even though the last couple years has been a journey of heartache laced with his lies, I have no regrets. We weren’t soul mates, not meant to last… plus we are much better as friends now even though he maintains the charade. He’s been my rock, too, during this plaque as no one else, not even my daughter, takes me anywhere. Yeah, I know that’s her car he’s driving when he takes me to the store to buy cigs or whatever I need but cannot get via some delivery service, but oh well… she knew about me before I knew about her, had absolutely no respect for me so OH WELL.

Meeting the Vet, hooking up, giving it a go was not a mistake, even though it was doomed from the get-go. I learned a lot about me… he saw things that no one else noticed, called me out on my BS, like asking me why I come out so strong and then tamp myself down. Always done that to make myself more acceptable to men, socially conditioned to hide part of myself away. He was the first man to ever notice how strong I am inside, to encourage me to just be myself, my full self, and that still blows my mind.

He also accepted me as I am, flaws and all… erasing all inhibitions and body memories. He doesn’t know about that. I never told him that I was sexually abused as a child. He knows a little, asked about a little scar. I answered briefly… cigarette burn, don’t worry about it.

A part of me will always love him… just as I still love every man I ever truly loved, but there comes a time when you have to bury love with the memories in a corner of your heart, untangle emotions and move on.

It’s been two years… rough go for awhile, but still good years with self discovery and personal growth. I’m more at ease and at peace with myself now than ever. What comes next? I’m pushing 60, have no desire to ever live with anyone, but it might be nice to find someone to date. Yeah, just date… as in go places and do things after this plaque ends. But not all the time, just once in awhile… go to an art opening or community thing, maybe out to dinner or something. Even as friends each paying their own way.

Maybe I’m nuts. Thanks for reading!

Tomorrow, I write

Max & Goldie… she’s the feral munchkin with the big eyes, always watching me, brave enough to hop on me bed, but I still cannot touch or pet her.

I have a lot to write about but the words are mulling in my mind, not quite ready to spill onto virtual paper. I miss blogging. I miss… sigh.

Tomorrow, I will write.

War

Should I paint my face and pick up a sword? Our country declares war on odd things.

Concept wars cannot be won as there is no clearly defined enemy, no nation to defeat, no land to seize. War on Terrorism, for example, broadly covers all aspects of terrorism instead of a specific terrorist and their organization, therefore it becomes never-ending as there is always someone or something else to add to the list. War on Drugs, War on Crime, War on Poverty… all noble endeavors to seek an end to, but war is specifically a human thing. People align, side with their cause, take up arms, battle to the death, pillage, bomb and blast each other to rumbles. War is an awful thing.

It bothers me to hear the leaders of this country describe COVID-19 as the enemy in this so-called “War” on a virus because the people are taking up sides against each other instead of working together for the common good.

On one side, we have the obnoxiously loud minority who use intimidation tactics to achieve their objectives, be it silencing other people by drowning out their voices on social media, verbally attacking people in public, or attending protests against health regulations fully armed. These are the guys carrying signs and military grade weapons at state capitals. Some are just ordinary people, but some of them are freaking nuts… their fringe element is prone to violence. One nut killed the security guard at a Michigan dollar store, another shot the cook at a restaurant, just because the businesses required customers to wear face masks.

Does intimidation work? Yes… people are afraid of those guys. They avoid the bullies, don’t engage in conversations, don’t dare leave a comment on a Facebook post lest you be attacked, ripped to shreds and called a sheep or whatever.

Wolves and sheep… the sheep side, or rather just the OTHER side, are more scared of the wolves than they are of the declared “enemy” in this “war” on a virus. These are the people who take the crisis seriously, practice social distancing, and cover their faces because they care deeply about others and are willing to do whatever it takes to help stop the spread of COVID-19. We know fabric masks do little to protect our own selves. We wear them just in case we, our own selves, may have contracted the virus and don’t yet know, may never know, because if we should happen to catch it, we want to reduce the odds of passing it on to someone else. Wearing a mask says, “I care.”

Yes, I am a sheep… dyed blue my wool, paint my face, the pen is my sword.

It’s not such a bad thing to be a sheep, to care about others, to be a humanitarian. Wolves who cry, “I don’t need a mask, God will protect me” forgot that the Shepherd tends the sheep. Psalms 23.

It is a bit ironic when wolves claim the sheep are too scared to stand up to “tyranny” as if state health guidelines and orders given to slow the spread of COVID-19 will lead to an authoritarian form of government. Most of those wolves support the current POTUS, echo his tweeted words, while sheep tend to believe the current administration is the greatest threat to our democracy.

Thanks for reading!

FULL DISCLOSURE: I not only practice social distancing and wear masks while in public, I also sew fabric masks for friends and quiet donations. Yes, some are available for purchase. I’m just trying to recoup some of the cost, not profit off a plague. Odds are, I still won’t break even, but that’s okay… if you want to see photos of what I’ve been sewing, visit Mice4Mars.com. That’s my other WordPress blog, launched just for my art before all this started.