Friday, May 27, 2011

Where I Stand

I love my family but I wish it was easier to do so.

We didn't search this out, it was information given to us by someone who thought we should know. Mom, upset, posted on Facebook.

An Email

After not hearing back, I was sent an email.

I then responded:

Subject: A Reply

Aunt Donna,

The first email you sent did nothing but make my mother out to be some misinformed, vengeful simpleton and it is entirely appropriate that she did not respond to you or wish to speak to you. Neither of us had any intention of responding. Not until the email you sent me forced my hand. It was clear you were really looking for some kind of response.

Whether you plan to forward this or not, I don't mind or care and might even prefer it if you did send it. I understand why you might not want to. You seem to apologize but in reality do nothing of the sort. It isn't an apology for you actually regretting your actions or feeling remorse, only that in some way there may have been a problem for me. So, thank you but no, the emails don't really affect me. Even though it appears to be your intention, it doesn't really affect Mom either.

You are correct in assuming that I understand you had a need to respond in some way to my mother's comment on Facebook. The problem is that it was the wrong response. I don't blame you for trying to still believe that Rob is a good person. I made that same mistake. For future feuding, when the family chooses the next person or persons to have on the outs, attempt to befriend them first. That way they are more susceptible to your persuading and might just believe you when you tell them they are wrong even with evidence to prove they are, in fact, right.

Your lack of surprise at Mom's actions to no longer be your friend on Facebook might be because you already knew you were not being a friend to her to begin with. It wasn't until this year that I truly understood just how outcast we had become.

I was fine knowing that we are the newest gossip topic, each gossiper spreading another rumor and then peppering that rumor with blatant lies. I was fine knowing that the family had decided to "pressure" Rob, as he put it, into ransacking the old place with his mother and his aunt, two women who had no right to ever be in that house. This because the family doesn't bother to attempt a conversation with us over anything that counts, yet a Facebook message is cause for the Guilmette alarm to sound. As with any type of fight, one could say it is the fault of both parties. I could take some of the blame as to why we were outcast. I didn't attend Christmas, I didn't crash a recent wedding I wasn't invited to, and I don't go to the Family Outing. I decided to stop trying to be part of the family as every time I did go, I felt awkward and unwanted.

There are certain people who have continued to be supportive, who I still see and hope to see and care very much about. And all this would be entirely too easy if I didn't care about any of you. It's when you all get into this petty backstabbing group that things go wrong. Donna, I know that you have taken it upon yourself to be the family spokesman, everyone goes to you and must go though you for contacts and information. I doubt, however, that any information in your "inquiries" came from a credible source. Were the inquiries to a detective of the Somersworth Police Department? Because there are a few things I believe you are missing. Is your information coming from Rob? I would very much like to see any of the family give Rob their keys and go away for a week if he is the trustworthy guy he must be claiming to be.

What he has done, what the family has done, has hurt me more than you could possibly imagine. From a family that I trusted and loved so deeply I have only been kicked, insulted repeatedly and forgotten. From Rob looking me in the face and walking by me in the store when I went to greet him, to Brandy saying she was the youngest child, thereby removing me from the family, to you, sending me an email in what seems to be an attempt to turn me against my own mother. I am finding it increasingly hard to remember any good things about an awful lot of the members of the family. So if my mother's post was hurtful, a simple Facebook post, I'd hate for you to ever experience 1/100th of the hurt the family has caused me. Has caused us.

My dad was a good man. He cared very much for his children, of which I am one. The way you phrase these emails, as I'm certain the family phrases everything, I am not included in the list of his children. This is one of the biggest faults any of the family could make. My father chose us, he was never forced to love us. He chose my mother to be his wife and he chose me to be his daughter. An amazing daughter, by the way. I never forgot a birthday and tried extra hard when it was clear on his face that his other children had forgotten him. I have a list of attributes but most importantly I loved him with all my heart. Wrongfully, he assumed that the family would love and accept us as he loved and accepted you all, something he must not have learned from his siblings but was kind enough to pass it to at least one of his daughters.

When you say that my father was very close to his children, he was close to all of us, and he would be ashamed of his family. He would be ashamed of his son for stealing from anyone, again, but most of all stealing from his step-sister and step-mother. Step-sister, I'd like to add, is a distinction that only Rob and Brandy made as well as calling our father “my dad” whenever they spoke of him. It was never just “Dad” or even “our dad,” implying that he was only theirs.

The funny thing about all of this is that my mother and I had moved on. I wish we never found out about Rob or that anyone brought it up again because we had no intention of dwelling on it any longer than we had. We have a different place, we have rebuilt the list of items we had lost, or at least most of them, we still talked to the family members who cared to talk to us and we were only looking to the future. I am very angry and probably will be for a long time over many of the things that have been done in your family, to us and to others.

Other than this ridiculous detour Mom and I are certainly “okay.”

I do hope that you are also okay. I currently can not forgive your actions but that doesn't mean that I don't love you. I am just disappointed.


Tonight I feel lighter.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Unwritten Adventures

As it always seems to, my writting is the first thing to go when it comes to vacations. I start out with the best intentions, buy a journal, find a pen and generally start thinking in long poetic prose and flowery details. (I chalk it up to my deep rooted desire for the coveted job of travel writing and a gypsy heart)
I love the idea of writing and I love to write and everything would work out fine if I had the time or took the time to actually do it. And as I purchase or pack a journal for the exciting trip ahead, I always forget, in that choose-not-to-remember way, that I don't write as much as I thought I would.
So here we are again, a second trip to San Francisco and my second-ish day in California and I have yet to write since the plane ride. The Terribly long flight and prior to that terribly long layover were opportune moments to write. And I did for as long as I could stay conscious having only slept for about 4 hours total since Wednesday night/ Thurdsay morning.
Even now, as we take Bart to SF I keep vetting distracted and losing my thoughts in the green picturesque hills and scenery passing the window.
I have so much I want to say about our trip here and our day in Santa Cruz yesterday, turkey burgers, cake, starbucks, the boardwalk, the bead shop and the feeling of flying.
I keep telling myself it would be easier to do the writing if I had ventured out on my own and wasn't visiting anyone but that wouldn't be nearly as fun or interesting for me.
So I keep looking for moments to write a trying to remember all I needed to say for when the time comes but if I keep worrying about writing it all down, I'm going to miss it when it is happening.

So here's to adventure! May it always be so exciting as to stop me from writing and remind me to be a part of what's happening.

Friday, January 29, 2010


I've got 25 years communication experience. I can be honest, I can tell you your butt doesn't look big, I can fib and beat around the bush as well as make a point. I can give advice, persuade, poke fun, speak when spoken to, and not when spoken to at all. I can even communicate without words because this body has an awful lot to say. Some of which may not be work appropriate. 

I am also fluent in bullshit. 

I can sew a button or duvet, or anything you need. I make coffee, or tea, cook, clean, organize, feed and water plants or animals or even you, if that is what you are in to. 

I can build it, if you need it built. I can find it if you need it found. I can create, stuff  fabricate, divine and in any other way come up with whatever it is you need. Maybe you don't know what you need. I can make the Earth so flat as a map and comb it over with a three tined comb until I reach the end, turn it upside down and start over again until I figure out what it is you require. 

I guess what I mean to say is I can do whatever it is. I can solve it, wash it, stick it, drill it, cut it, bend it, break it, fix it.

I know a bit about astronomy and astrology. I can read your stars, explain your sign but I warn you, they haven't done a thing for me. 

I can tell a joke, just one, and not very well but I can make up for it by listening to yours. 

I can dance when moved to, I can sing and on occasion hit the right note but never if you are listening. 

I can type faster than many and enjoy it more than most. I can fax, print, copy, sort, alphabetize, answer calls and be the best office tool you had and never realized you needed or how you could live without. 

I don't need sick days, unless I'm sick. I'm great with people except when I'm not and I'm good at remembering except when I don't. 

I can be firmer than necessary if it is actually necessary. I can pick a fight, stop a fight, pause a fight, win a fight and avoid a fight without breaking a sweat but I may crack a smile. 

I'm a bit of a Renaissance man, or woman as the case is. I don't mind getting dirty and I clean up well. And if you are willing to part with that CHANCE you are holding on to, I'd be more than willing to take it. 

Wednesday, January 20, 2010


About a week before my birthday I had decided to bail on the whole thing. I would just skip it, like all the other days that I tend to skip. In all honesty it was a depression thing. K asked me what my plans were for the day of twenty-fiveage and I told her of my very good plans of skipping it. She then informed me that I couldn't do that. After a mopey conversation in the car, I agreed that I would let her and C surprise me but that they should include Mom in whatever they were doing.

There were a few snags in the plans they made so we bumped the birthday bashing up a day. K stayed the night and then in the morning we all got in the car and set out for surprises. I had Mom's scarf around my head so I couldn't see where we were going but that didn't stop me from knowing where I was. This would be good if I were after taken. K got mad at me when I asked her if she needed any money for tolls.

We made it to our surprise destination early enough to get good seats. So C, K, Mom and I saw The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus. For Mom it was the first time. After the movie Mom told us she wasn't feeling well and needed to go home. So we brought her home and then K and I went to Chile's because it was nearly 5:00 and we hadn't eaten anything but popcorn.

After food we drove to C's to watch the Golden Globes. There was a bit of time before it began so K took drums, C took guitar and I took the chair. Turns out, if you need to hold a note on drums you have to keep hitting it.

The Globes went well, a couple Globes went to people we wanted and then everyone was surprised by Robert, even Robert. Well done all. Somewhere in the middle of the Golden Globes C and K gave me their birthday gift. (Doctor Who Series Four with Donna Noble. I love Donna.)

We couldn't stay because the snow was interested in screwing with any plans we may have thought we had. Due to messed directions that didn't take us by K's place and determined snow, we looked for places to stay the night. There weren't any. We made it to Newington and though that is only about 15 minutes from my house, we couldn't make it. It would have taken us about 30 to 45 minutes to get the rest of the way home. So we got to the Motel 6 and K got us a room. She closed her eyes, I took off my pants, it was an interesting night.

WARNING: The following may not be suitable for those with weak stomachs.

Sometime in the morning I got up, grabbed my pants, and went into the bathroom where I bent my body in ways I forgot I had ever done before, and from somewhere sacred inside of me came the leftovers of the day before. Once, twice, a dozen times, internal became external and I hugged the toilet like I hadn't done in years. Somewhere between ending up on the floor and K waking up, I had put on my pants. Concerned, as a good friend would be, she came knocking to see if I was alright. Which I was not, but at that moment was stable. In informed her of my pants and their current location and she then opened the door. I remember making some statement about my toes and the polish and then I took the trash with me to bed. After sleeping a bit more we got up and I went right back into the bathroom to throw up again. I was alright for a bit and we had to check out so we chose to be on our way home.

We were well stuck in the parking spot and it took a bit of back and forth to get out. Arriving at home was no different. The end of the driveway was not plowed and the rocking sent me over the edge. I got out of the car, got into the house and again, threw up. This time, mostly pissed off, the puking was accompanied by half-sobs. I didn't even get to have the alcohol that would normally go along with this whole ordeal. So, after the fourth time I had to run to the bathroom to throw up, I lost count. Nothing stayed down. K stayed for a while and then was off because she had work the next day and figured it would be best to try and let me sleep. I did get to listen to most of Escape from L.A. while she watched it. We have yet to speak about the movies in depth.

At about 3:00am, the day after my birthday, I went to the bathroom and heaved nothing. Several times. I went back to bed and from there it has been better. I haven't thrown up since.

Mom had made cupcakes and decorated the house with frogs and a “river” to resemble the Princess and the Frog. The cupcakes have little, and I say little even though they take up most of the cupcake top, frogmallows on them that are rather tough and not very tasty. They are cute though.

It was a birthday I will probably always remember. Everyone tried so hard but I did a bang up job of ruining it. I was a good idea to move it up a day I suppose or it would have been completely ruined. Many thanks to K, C, and Mom for trying so hard.

Monday, January 11, 2010

I'd start a revolution if I could get up in the morning.

a very good friend asked me, as a slip of the tongue, what my new years resolutions were. I've been thinking about that for a while. Not thinking about it in a life or death, or even cake or death sort of way, but more a back of the mind, that kind of itches but my arm is asleep, sort of way.

A revolution may just be what I've been needing. No, I am not planning to overthrow any governments. I tried to rule an island once in a high school experiment. the native islanders didn't like us and my people wanted Jock McMeathead to rule instead. So I am not the person to be mixing it up in the government.

I mean a different kind of revolution. The "drastic and far-reaching change in ways of thinking and behaving" kind of revolution. Perhaps that is why all those years before, the promises made every January 1st, were always broken by January 2nd. It wasn't drastic enough. It wasn't a change of behaving, it was a lame attempt at making myself feel better for not having accomplished anything I promised the year before.

I don't really believe in the whole resolution thing. I never really have. Pie crust promises, all of them. "Easily made and easily broken," says Mary Poppins. (I have never made a traditional pie crust, but the store bought ones are very easily made. Very much manufactured like most resolutions.)

I think it is nagging at me that I haven't made any promises to myself about what this year should be because I don't know what it should be. I do know that I am 25 in a few days, have a degree no one finds useful, even me, and a crap job that has given me 9 hours total next week.

I've started those questions. You know? The what if ones.
"If I live to be 50, I'll be middle aged this year. What does that say about my life?" One of my responses being, that I should have taken better care of myself if I only live to fifty. But then
I question the freak accident that kills me at fifty. The indoor luge and avocado incident.

All the planning is dealing in futures and If I learned anything from 2007 it was there is no future, only now. I have yet to take action and do anything about only having a now. We humans make plans, we think about the house we are saving for, the car we can't get until we hit the mid-life crisis, the vacations we will take when we retire. This is someone else's life. Someone else plotted this out and claimed it was the one thing we all wanted, imprinted us with it since childhood, and sent us on our way to strive for a life and lifestyle that we know won't make us happy. But that is what we are to do. Because that is the way it is done.

This is my revolution, the change I have been afraid to make: I am going to be happy in each day. I am no longer going to treat myself like the enemy. The plans I have put on hold will not be held any longer because of someone else. My life is not someone else's to live and it is time I take hold of it.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

The overdue praise of Mr. Universe

My landlord man is a guy named Dan. Dan's last name is one of planetary origin, and yes I know there is more to the universe than our solar system, but Mr. Universe sounds better than Mr. Planet. Too close to Captain Planet, and I don't really know how Dan feels about recycling.

I think the first thing to say is Dan is probably in his late 40s to 50s and has a girlfriend. Just FYI if you start plotting things.

I met Dan after having found a listing on (certain guy's name)list. He seemed really nice on the phone and didn't mind meeting with us even though we had credit issues and things weren't going so great all around.

After he forgot the key, we were lost and late, we got to meet. A tall man, about 6'2-6'4, a hairline that has inched back a bit since his 20s, cut rather close, and he has a strong handshake he isn't afraid to use with women.

Long story short, which is mostly detailed in other posts, we got the place.

Reasons why Mr. Universe is so cool:

1. He took a chance on us and gave us a break.

2. Paint -

a. He said he will buy or pay us back for the painting we do.

b. We can paint how we want

c. He brought us supplies, a step stool, and primer so we could paint and spackle.

3. He genuinely wants us to be happy here.

4. He didn't want to bring my door until he had cleaned it and scraped off the flaking bits.

5. He emails and texts me. I think the texting is majorly cool.

Perhaps I like Dan so much because Dan is a good man. Everyone knows a "good man is hard to find." I don't really believe that. Though it is entirely possible that "a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."

Whatever your favorite saying about men may be, if you ever run into this one, it is likely you would like him.

To Mr. Universe, much thanks. And he's so cool, I bet he recycles.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Saturday, December 19, 2009

I'll be home for Christmas

34 Myrtle street. We got the place.

Yesterday I went to see my mom at the bank and run a few errands. Someone in Washington state bought some button earrings and I finally sent out my fingerprints and such to allow investigations into my character, background and other types of reports for a job. If I am trusted enough I get a job. If not, I'm not given a job. Let's hope I get a better paying job for the new year.

So I brought some jewelry stuff to the bank because they wanted to see it and was chatting up my mom when Dan came in.

Mom told me to turn around, look who was there. I was surprised and happy to see him. He did some banking and came to talk to us. He said he would like to rent to us. Meaning yes, we got it. The nook place. He wasn't checking that I worked at kohls, just taking my word for it because they have a silly phone service and I don't know any of the office numbers. He contacted my mom's references and they gave us good reviews. Five stars. So we officially get to start the move in and paper sign process on Sunday. Giving us about three days to get everything we want to keep out of the house.

I am excited and nervous because I have a few items I can't find that I want to bring with me. My major concern is my scrapbook with a bunch of photos I don't want to lose. I also have a scrapbook of Kerri's things someplace. And her curtains somewhere.

I know major items I'm taking like the bed and the couch and the two TVs. I will have to get my clothes together as well. That might be the more difficult thing. I have clothes all over the house and not all worth keeping. Again, I mention I am a packrat. I had begun the might purge last summer and had planned to continue it this coming one. So it is just going to be hurried along and I won't be able to dispose of things as I had hoped but I am forced to evaluate the bits and baubles I am clinging to. A fresh start for all. Mom is even getting a haircut on Sunday so she is starting fresh. This is good for us.

To packing.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone