Sorry you guys. Last Friday I was really crabby and it came through in my writing. Sometimes I get really aggravated that I�m always surprised at the degree of rudeness that people exhibit. I�m observing folks and thinking that I had no parents growing up, no real role models that lived close by and I�m not rude unless it�s totally necessary. I don�t go willy nilly with it that�s for sure�..
Either way, I�m sorry. I�ll try to be more positive from now on.
Friday I believe I was a bundle of nerves due to knowing my daughter was coming home. Well first there is my fear of flying, that she doesn�t have. Then, my fear of her being around strangers. I don�t trust people. I believe when I was a kid I might�ve been afraid of Mr. Rogers.
Then of course I�m knowing my ex-husband isn�t my biggest fan, isn�t the brightest one, and that he loves nothing more than to throw me a fast one. I was worried he wouldn�t put her on the plane. That would�ve broken my heart and by the time I would�ve gotten done with him he�d have looked hairless and eyebrow-less like on of those Taelons from �Earth, Final Conflict.� I would�ve ripped him bald. People don�t play when it comes to my kid.
Then, there was this �Welcome Home� party for Jackie to get ready for. Saturday Lisa and I ran around like patients in a mental institution trying to get everything done. It was insane and without her, I would�ve been a mess on Sunday.
Let�s backtrack to Friday. Friday, after working all day, I cleaned my house like a mad-woman, making sure I smelled up the place with pine-sol and Lysol, not remembering how in the hell my house got so dirty and dusty when I was the ONLY one who was there. Man, I�m a slob!
I threw out a bunch of junk, (five bags of useless crap), cleaned out my car, tidied up my dining room. I burned incense and lit candles. I relaxed for like, 60 seconds.
Saturday morning at 10 or so, Lisa came over and we began our mission. We shopped for the party, picked up the balloons and cake and collapsed for a good half an hour. Then we got the party favors ready, strung up the decorations and generally hauled butt.
Lisa and I ended up getting ready to go out really late, because I had to do laundry. After that we finally headed over to pick up Rufus (who had already showered, etc).
We had at first wanted to go to the landing but decided last minute to go to Sauget, Illinois, which has a reputation of being party town, think New Orleans in November, fun but not like carnival.
I think Rufus would�ve been more than happy to go to the strip clubs, but Lisa and I wanted to dance (and not on stage in our underwear, though I was in heaven; there were lots of men around). So, after bickering back and forth, we decide to go to Oz, which looks pretty dead. I stuff my tear gas down my shirt (one can never be too careful). Oz is kind of a �cocktail� type bar (without the Tom Cruise lookalike bartenders). Lots of pink and purple lights. Techno music. A few couples. A set of swingers. And I�m not talking about monkeys when I say swingers. You get me?
We hoped against hope that they�d play some dance music, but I only ended up recognizing one song. However, that didn�t stop me from getting my buzz on. I had the bright idea to get the bartender to make me a New Orleans style hurricane. It was perfect. I had 3, I think, and a Long Island iced-tea (which tasted remarkably like Lemon Dawn Dish soap). Whooo-doggy! I was tipsy.
Then, we went to another bar, against our better judgement, because Oz was about as exciting as watching ants crawl. I can listen to house music all day. I love dance, soul, jazz, r&b, heavy metal, rock and pop. However, if I listen to Techno longer than an hour my brain starts to melt. Too much repetition.
In search of a place to do some hell-raisin� we go to Pop�s. It�s got a reputation of being a �roadhouse� type bar, whooee! my sort of place. The only thing that bothered me was the drunk, mid-life-crisis having dude. He was not only doing the moonwalk, but her was also trying to breakdance. Whenever he got tired he�d strut around the floor like a peacock. Yuck. He was also a fashion emergency in a blue plaid shirt, blue jeans, and some nasty cowboy boots. He also parted his hair down the middle like that kid from the little rascals. It was pathetic. Lord, it was hard not to laugh in his face. But we walked past him and did our own thing.
I told my friend Lisa and Doug that it�s a cool fun place, but that at least we know where all the ugly people come on the weekends. I mean, gnarly. I mean, Beaver teeth. We�re talking teeth that can open cans of green beans. Eeewww. Mr. Ed would�ve been proud to have them. Lots of people there had buck teeth.
It was too much fun though. We saw Cheese, a live band. The lead singer was one hot mo-fo. He looked sort�ve like Jacob Dylan, sang like Dave Matthews and had these gorgeous dimples. I think the elastic in my underwear melted.
We got home about 4. I said to myself and maybe to Lisa, �we�ll get about 6 hours of sleep. We can get up around 10 and leave here around 12 to go to the airport.� That sounded great.
But alas, in Oregon, Gibroni AKA Uranus decided to scare the crap out of me and leave me a message saying Jackie was coming home early. I woke up to the last part of his message. And I start freaking out. And by the time we figure out that it was a mix-up, I�m wide-awake. So, Lisa and me were running on three hours of sleep. I�ll talk about that later. That�s so funny that it�s gonna take me a while to describe it.
I will mention that I got ghetto up in the airport. Seems they didn�t want to let me in to pick up my own daughter from the terminal. My hair stood up, I cursed. It was embarrassing for my friends.
All in all I was thrilled to have Jackie home. My baby.
On another subject, I was cleaning out my desk last week and found this letter I�d written to the detective. Rambo was a wonderful person to me most of my life. He was the man I measured many up to and unfortunately for them, hardly any of them made it. I knew what a good man was, thanks to Rambo.
It is an intense soul-baring letter, but I think it shows where my mind was a year ago.
Dear Rambo,
Happy Late Father�s Day!
How are you? I hope this finds you well. I am writing because I need to talk to someone about what I am feeling. Someone I know who cares about me and understands me.
This has been the best times in my life. I can think of other times that I was skinnier, prettier, or I was at an age where my whole life was ahead of me. But the two years since I left the NAVY have been the best. I liked myself for the first time. I took up for myself. I found my voice. I made amends with my family and made a life for Jackie and I. I got a good job. I fell in love again. (That�s when Rene� was still in like Flynt)
I am burdened lately. My soul feels heavy and it�s affecting my relationships. It almost seems that when I find myself opening up and giving myself to those I love, it�s immediately followed by a period of isolation. I don�t go anywhere, or see anyone.
I am afraid.
There are so many things I need to do, that I do not do. Things that will improve my life and make it easier. But I cannot move. I had a therapist who once told me that I was afraid of success because it meant change. Change always brought negative things upon me.
I wonder if anybody really knows me. Not that I�m that weird or freaky of a person. But so many times the real me wasn�t conformative. I wasn�t like everyone else so I had to pretend to fit in.
Someday, I�ll tell you about my life that you missed out on because I wasn�t permitted to contact you, and when I finally could, I still believed that no one in St. Louis loved me, just like my uncle Derwin said. I think you�ll love me regardless of what I share with you. No, I didn�t become a tramp or anything like that, but there were times I did walk a find line between being good and being bad. I almost think I was rebelling against the good, sane image my family boxed me into as a child.
When I was growing up, I wished you were my dad. Nobody is perfect but in my eyes you were close. I felt that if I had a Dad like you, I might not have screwed up so much as a teenager. That wasn�t your responsibility. I just wish I had someone like you taking care of me.
I wouldn�t have felt that that I had no worth to a man. I probably wouldn�t have kept running away from my life. I didn�t want to admit that all the things that had happened had happened to me. It was too awful to think about.
You probably never knew I felt that way, but I still do look upon you as a father figure. You love me unconditionally and that�s a lot more than my family ever allowed me. (I know now that we were just dealing with our pain in different ways).
I am trying really hard to be positive. My faith in God has gotten me through the worst of my times. My purpose on earth, I believe, is to help other people, through my book, through public speaking. Sincerely, I believe I have something to share with others. It's just that lately, I am down. I�m trying to keep myself busy. Reminding myself of my blessings helps.
It does seem that my life is lacking somehow. I have always felt this way. At the forefront of my life there can be happiness, but in the back of my mind there�s the little voice that says, �it�s going to end because it never lasts for long�. I am trying to ignore the voice, but I guess because I�m unemployed (laid off), it�s louder. I always feel like someday people will see me and expose me for the boring person that I really am. When I was working, I sometimes worried that even though I was qualified, they�d suddenly realize I didn�t deserve the job at all. Isn�t that crazy????
Everybody has insecurities, but does everybody feel like a great big fraud all of the time? I�m rootless even though I established a life for myself that�s completely opposite of what I was expected to have.
Well, I promised myself that when I start working, I�d find a therapist so that I can work all of this out. Sometimes I just wish I had my parents to lean on. I really love Cindy (step-ma) but I have difficulty establishing a lasting close bond with her. I have my reasons but one is because she doesn�t understand me.
Please don�t think I�m losing my mind. I�m not. Mentally I just feel that I�m a very strong person.
Instead of repressing my feelings as usual, I wanted to share with you what goes on in my head sometimes. I wanted to show you the most private part of my soul that I never show anybody, because it matters to me that you really know who I really am.
The day I came over to have dinner with you and Linda, I was touched. I wanted to cry so many times, but I didn�t because I felt that if I ever did that night, I wouldn�t stop. You are the person who saw that crime scene. You are smart. You know the in�s and out�s of the case. Being with you is like being with family to me because you saw what I saw. That�s so foreign to me because as much as I love my relatives, I sometimes feel somewhat detached from them. They hurt but not the same. It feels like we�re two different species.
It touches me that you and Linda love me and really care to still know me. In all the weirdness and strangeness in my life, Rambo, you were the epitome of normal to me. You were a constant. People would love me one day and not the next, but you always did. My mom Joann was famous for saying, � I just want somebody to love me�. I couldn�t understand that because family surrounded her. But I think what she really meant, and I do understand now, is �I want somebody to love me unconditionally�. I totally identify with that now. What�s nice is when somebody DOESN�T HAVE TO love you. You and Joe Burgoon didn�t have to care for us, but you did. That�s powerful to me, because I felt so insignificant at times.
I can never say it enough but you made a difference in my life. I judged men by your standard: integrity, honesty, strength and compassion. That�s probably why I never had someone who abused me as a significant other. They might be jerks but they don�t hit me.
I feel better now. Feels a little good to be in my own skin again. I�m sorry if this letter doesn�t make a lot of sense. Thanks for reading it though.
Love,
Melissa
*************************************
What a difference a year makes. I found my dad, I bonded with my family and I have learned about the case. It�s incredible.
2:34 p.m. - 2003-07-01
Recent entries:
What you missed - January 16, 2012
%%older_entries%%From hell - October 19, 2010
%%older_entries%%a rant from a few weeks ago - August 17, 2010
%%older_entries%%Tired - June 20, 2010
%%older_entries%%A beautiful lie - March 11, 2010
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