Suddenly, I feel a bit empowered. I deleted my fiend's phone number from my cell with with no deep heart-wrenching guilt. I mean, our friendship just was not a friendship, it seem. It was something, but not much of anything. It's no sin in the long run. He emailed me that "it just didn't work out for me to call you,"...yeah, I can see how hard it would be to call and say that he was depressed and didn't feel like talking, and he hoped I understood. He must have feared that I would cut him no slack, cuz yup, I'm a real hard person to get along with But he dosen't do things like that, I've learned. "Don't know why I didn't call,"...I don't either, but it hurt my feelings as I was under the impression that it would be good to hear from you. Wrong. So wrong.

It occurs to me that I maybe looked forward to talking with my friend a little too much. I was kind of welcoming some positive vibes so close on the heels of Uncle Bill's death. I see now, that I may be making mountains out of mole hills just 'cuz a friend broke his word to call. But it is such a drag to be my age sittin' by the phone waiting for a call, regardless of how important that call may or may not have been. I am ceasing to give the matter any more attention than I nuerotically find myself occasionly flashing back upon...oooh that was a rough copunded sentence & then some. Suffice it to say, I'm just my happy life & the friends I have that don't keep draggin my heart around. This failure to communicate has always peppered our relationship, and when this guy did fade away, I found him & forgave him with the notion of forging our Rock Med Dead Head friendship. The lad never asked for forgivenes...I gave it to him over & over again, and now, I'm thinking there's a good chance he doesn't want to be forgiven. He wants to be the bad guy, the dissappointment, the kind of guy my Mama warned me about. He remains determined to play the part of the "Desperado." I feel empowered by fading into the shadows. By just letting him be him & me be me & see ya'.

SEE YA! Hitting the treadmill with my ipod...always makes me feel empowered. Healthy, Strong. Optimistic. Happy in my here & now. Lucky in love with Bubba always here for me. 14 years. Inseperable, still in love, still laughing & joking, still doing nice things for each other & being kind to all. Bubba & I make a really good team for being polar opposites.

Now, it be de Dead head truckin' like a tread head.

When we kiss goddbye, and I tell Bubba to have a nice day, he answers saying "Don't make friends." He is only half joking.

It is friends that visit and stay and interrupt stuff he was in the midst of accomplishing.

It was friends who used to con Bubba into being designated driver for their trips to the gambling boats, so that they could get falling down drunk & beligerent, and he could drive them safely home to their unhappy wives.

It was friends who made it hard for me to stop drinking, and friends who tempt me with "just one" still, after more than 3 years without a drink.

It was yet another friend who gave me this yet one more case of a flu, as I seem to catch all the illiness that my friends have to offer.

It was a friend that came into our house through the doggy-door, fearlessly stepping through our fearless watch dogs, marching straight down the hall to search my bathroom, find my pain pills, under the waschcloths, and steal the the entire brand new prescription bottle full away. This "friend"(who only ever took from me during our 6 month friendship called me later to say," I know that you think that I stole your pain pills, but it dosen't matter because I know that I didn't." I had told her that they were missing, but never accused her, even though I knew then, as I know now. Accusations & subsequent lies of denial were just so unneccesary.

It was a friendship that I insisted making out of a relationship where I was once his lover, though he was never mine. He promised me only pain for my efforts, and remained true to his promise through the years...
If I could not be his lover, I very much wanted to be his friend. I could not be either, it seems. Only hurt and disappointed, yet again...

I want to tell Bubba that he is wrong. I want him to see that friendship is, ineded, a worthy endeavour, but I am never able to complete my arguements adequately.

I am what I am. Relationships are important to me, but none more impotant than the one Bubba & I share. It is scary that there are times that I find myself inclined to agree with his admonishment, "Don't make friends," , but the me that I am makes friends easily, doing what comes naturally. He likes to tease me about it, and he knows that he cannot change who I am. He knows that I would not let him. If nothing else, at this stage of my life, I say what I think and I am who I am...which is a woman with a friendly disposition. I suppose, that as with any other facet of life, I need to learn to keep all things in moderation.

I have a friend that I don't think that I have really ever seen. He hides his head inside a dream which I fear that he often turn into nightmares out of habit. There are times that I believe that my friend is incapable of happiness. He facies himself The Eagle's "Desperado," doomed to live alone in a crowd, never feeling what they are feeling... Some one should call him and see if he can come out, try to lose the down that he always seems to find.

We have been less-than, more-than, and I thought we had salvaged a friendship saved, and I felt that indeed, we had done so. For 15 years, I have strived to remain his friend and convince him of his worthiness. I have always valued him, though he has always warned me that he would only bring pain. I always accepted that hangup about him, and in the past, I have thought that I understood his deliemma, but now, today, I realize that I have been wrong, and that I have no idea who my friend is or anything about him. Friends do not play head games in my world. Friends do not play mind games in cyberspace & unreturned cell phone calls. I was asked to call in an e-mail, but he turned off his cell. This wasn't telephone tag. This was, "Call me Monday," and then turning your cell phone off Monday when I thrice tried to call. The thid time became the charm..."The person you've called is not recieving phone calls. Please..."

Please don't tell me to call, and thrn, make it impossible for me to do so. Don't waste my time.

Please don't ignore my no-hassle short e-mails asking if you did indeed decide against calling me. I deserve to be told that you have chosen to end our friendship. You woulda, coulda, shoulda...been a better quality of a friend.

This mixed signal gig my friend has always sought refuge in is in fact, blatantly direspecting me, and I don't need it. You cannot say it? Allow me. This is the way I see it:

Sorry, Cher, but I am incapable of being your friend. I know that you care about me, but on many occasions, I've hurt your feelings and when forgiveness was granted, I took it, and soon enough, I'd hurt you again. Over and over we have danced around what our relationship woulda, coulda, shoulda been, and girl, it was never what you wanted it to be and just as sure, it was never what you thought it was. Now, I chose to end it.

Geeeez...whatever is in this guy's head, I probably never did understand, still don't, and never will.. I asked him to not allow our friendship ever fade away, and he did just that. Because we just can't be friends, I do now believe. Friends say nice things to each other. I was saying something nice about the importance of our friendship. I was wrong. If he misunderstood my reference to an old Buddy Holly tune & has chosen to dance away...again...so be it.

I do not need this.

I suppose he...I suppose none of it matters. We evidently can't be friends. Being naiive has lost it's appeal. Let's be real. If he wanted to be my friend, he would be. Just that. Nothing more. Nothing less. He can't or won't and I'm not looking back.

I know how to be happy. I know how to be a friend. I know I am in love with Bubba and have never given anyone reason to think that I'd put our love in danger. If anyone ever thinks I am ever going looking for any drama or trouble in this love we share, then they are not thinking correctly, and they do not know me at all. I am fiercely loyal to my friends, my family, my man. I am painfully honest with friends, family, and Bubba. I plan to grow old with Bubba in love and dignity, the Good Lord Willing, if She says I may...I know that the life that I lead is finally doing me so much good, I am living the life that I should, 14 years ago, I made a new start, a new life, a new future...I'm as close to happily ever after as it gets in this crazy, lonely world.

My old friend, just isn't. Probably never was. Regardless, it just dosen't matter any more. I will always remeber us as friends. But I will always figure that I was a better friend than he deserved.

We buried Uncle Bill today, in the rural cemetary just off the highway. He lived a long life, 92 years old, dying peacefully in his sleep at the nursing home. His wife had preceeded him in death by at least 30 years, and he missed her painfully every day. A kindly, active, church-going man with two middle-aged surviving offspring, and a wide array of grandchildren and great grandchildren. His eldest boy had died shortly after his return from the Korean War from a sudden barrage of cardiac complications. His two remaining full grown children have problems of their own, and though they loved & respected their father, they often failed to connect with him. Their lifestyles just didn't mix. Uncle Bill lived to ensure that when he dies, he would go with Jesus as Bill's reward for his many, unselfish years of service to The Methodist Church. I haven't a clue what his chidren believe.

I had come back to Indiana from many pagen years living near the San Francisco Bay Area. I was determined to fit in. My family lived here in the Bible Belt and if I wanted to be near those who love me as I love them, unconditionally, I would have to adapt. I bought a car. Found a really nice boyfriend who has treated me with love and repect and affection ever since our first blind date. I had found a job, made some friends, and for the7th or 8th time in my life I was starting my life over again, from the bottom up. I seemed to be on a roll. My pursuit towards achieving a higher spiritual state of being, brought me to a sweet lil hillside church in my boyfriend's hometown.

My boyfriend had no desire to pursue organized religion, but had no objection to me checking out the situation. Sunday, after Sunday, I'd sit alone near rhe rear of the church, mesmerized by the charismatic preacher that sometimes upset me, but always made me think. And Sunday after Sunday, while thinking to myself about my God, my eyes would stray to the little old man who always sat alone in the 3rd pew from the front on the right side of the church. People spoke to him, in passing quite often. They smiled & nodded at me, an unknown sitting alone week after week, but to the little old man they stopped & talked before moing alng, always leaving the both of us sittting alone.

I had overheard some folks talking and had ascertained that the gent's last name was the same as my boyfriend's. As I was in Bubba's home town, I guessed they were related and one Sunday, I gathered my courage & walked over to the lonely-looking old guy, introduced myself and asked him if I might join him. He was quite agreeable, and thus, the strange, almost romantic relationship beween Bubba's Uncle Bill (the brother of Clyde, Bubba's estranged father) and me, Cher, Bubba's second girlfriend, ever, began.

Inventory
Speeding Ticketlast week, 68mph in a 55mph=$110... money order, they won't take a check...
Same day, earlier in the AM before doomsday commute, Bubba had a hissy fit when he went to warm up my truck as I had left radio playing loud & windshield wipers still on, & the windshield was frozen over & it was a dumb blonde thing to do & he figures I should know better & think smarter. End result=let's keep that lil' rendevous with John Law our little secret. It would not add to the quality of Bubba's life or mine to share in this lil' indiscretion...I made a mistake, I'm paying for it... 'nuff said.
Last paycheck did not include sick pay for that 2 days of that flu...inquiries resulted with the main office in Ohio, possibly making up rules as they go along, that even though they have paid me 12 days sick pay in the last 2 3/4 yrs, the aforementioned sick days paid were paid by mistake. No matter if I work 36 or 40 hours, I will always be "considered" a part time employee... If I am lucky, they won't come after me for reimbursement. Waiting with baited breath on that aspect.
Slap in the face, but I thank the messenger politely.
Still with the Inventory
Stress
Overwhelming...get a grip...
too much caffiene...3 Diet Rock Stars in 2 days, and I wonder why I can't sleep through the night...countless cups o' coffee...
winding up the Inventory.
Working the Holiday...verbal approvement on Holiday pay for working the Holiday, but I'm thinking that I shoulda got it in writing. I was promised 5 days of sick days a year after working there a year, BUT I DIDN'T GET IT IN WRITING!
I wonder if I still get vacation should I remain employed with these bloodsuckers?
Headache all day this Inventory day. No quick fix for this bad boy.
Final copy completed. Inventory ready to be turned in tomorrow AM.
think I solved my blogstream posting problem. Let's see...
Keepin' it real
deep breathing
big picture
blogstream to email magically fixed itself...?THANK YOU, PIONEER?