How can things be so good and then go so wrong?

After a fabulous year in Verona with Mauro and Tristana and il mio bello Sebastiano, I have traded in my heaven for a slice of the proverbial hell. Oh why, oh why, oh why? I must save myself, and my memories, from further tarnishing by getting far away from this place. How can people live this way? I'm only sad that these children will never know how good life really can be. Well, maybe there's hope for them when they get older and can move away... but actually, I doubt it. They are on their way to being exactly like their mother. Selfish and self-centered. Disrespectful and crazy. And with that... ciao.

Dancing with beautiful boys.

So first, the setting. Picture Paris in your mind. That night, after a full day of sightseeing, we went on a boat tour and passed by Notre Dame Cathedral, the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, countless mansions and beautiful bridges. We took in the scenery and then made our way to our hotel located on Boulevard de Rochechouart a scant measure from the Moulin Rouge. It is next door to the Moulin Rouge, in a swanky night lounge where I met and talked with a beautiful Parisian boy about life, love and religion. He spoke to me with respect, looked deep into my eyes when I spoke and laughed with me about our two countries. He and his friend bought Magen and I drinks and roses, then when their friends came out of the Moulin Rouge (the dancers) they joined us and we had flaming shots of an alcohol I can't recall the name of. In the wee hours of the morning we went back to his friends house, where we talked and drank a bottle of wine. His friend sang songs in French while playing the guitar. The bathroom was the size of a small broom closet. Very bohemian. Then he kissed me while speaking French into my ear, and I couldn't help but kiss him back. I promised I would remember him and he gave me a token to remember him, and maybe call him when I come back to Europe. 

So we leave Paris two hours later and after a day of driving, arrive in Florence. Magen, Angela and I got dolled up and went with a group to a club in Florence the next night. The club was very cool, dark with colorful lights flashing around the dance floor. At one end were steps that led up to a private box, see through floor to ceiling glass. It was empty when we got there but at some point filled up with hot Italian men. We watched bouncers turn people away at the door and then suddenly, Magen grabs my hand and says come with me. So I went. We walk up the stairs, the bouncer looks us up and down and then looks over his shoulder at the private party and a guy gives him a nod to let us in. So we went in and started dancing. Did we know what we were doing? Of course. I put my "fuck me" eyes on and picked out a very tasty Italian who was watching me dance. Then I crooked my finger and told him to come to me. He did. We danced and moved together with the pounding music and the flashing lights. He didn't speak any English. I didn't speak any Italian. He pointed at their private bar and I shook my head yes. So we drank and danced and danced and drank. It was hot, I was hot. He was very hot. Megan danced with the birthday boy. Angela came up and found another Italian boy for herself. We all moved together, laughing, touching. I was wanton and I didn't care who saw me pressing my body into the glass, moving with this boy, and having the most fun I think I'll ever have. Other girls tried to get in. They couldn't. So I watched them downstairs and said ha, I know you're a skinny 20 year old but look who's down there while I'm up here. Eventually it moved from dancing to kissing to dancing while kissing. He took me downstairs to make out with me in a dark corner. Then we moved into a hallway where he tried to get me to have sex with him. Hands aggressive, moving over my body, into my clothes. His mouth was everywhere. I could feel him trying to press himself into me, standing up, trying to push my pants down. Amazingly, I kept my pants up, mostly, and his member out of mine. Then someone opened the door and told us to move. I giggled and zipped up my pants. We kissed our way out of the club and it was there that I promised that I would see him the next night and met up with my friends. I never saw him again. But his face is in my dreams sometimes.

The Train

There is a blood red sun on the horizon that I've tried capturing with my camera but can't do it justice. I sit here on this train, wondering if I am going to the right place, listening intently to the foreign announcements, trying to pick out a familiar word or place. The first time is always the hardest, after that it becomes monotonous and flaccid, losing adventure and wonder as time goes on and drags you with it. My heart was racing as I came to the train station and entered her slowly, carefully. Paused to get the right fit and proceeded clumsily to the platform. I missed something I know, couldn't find the right spot to validate my presence on this ride. Next time I will be more experienced, my virginity lost, just like this tired, used vessel I dart across the countryside on.

--She has seen her share of brothels, a whore to more powerful forces. Dirty streaks mark her face, her smell a cacophony of leftovers, gifts of the many men and women who carelessly leave behind a thing intangible. The only thing that makes her existence palpable, the running, running... fast, fast, faster, faster, take me away, away. Free! Free! Free! Scenes flash in colors, musty earth tones, bright greens and blurry reds. A flash of pink, orange and yellow. She tires after awhile, slows, catches her breath, crying when she stops. Waiting for the next customer to give her their burden. Selling herself again and again to the highest bid. 6,40 euros. If she stops, if she quits, they will put her away, never to be seen again. Never to see. So she endures her slow rape. Never raising her voice in protest. If she can just keep running maybe it will all fade away. They pay no attention to her, she is a means to an end. Nothing more to them than what she can give away. The service she performs expected. Satisfaction guaranteed: I have what you want.

Squash

I know a person who received a squash racket in the mail today. And another person who received a pair of bowling shoes. Curiouser and curiouser. If the squash player wasn't a conundrum before now...

Puddle hopping.

I'm leaving my planet in five, very short, days. I woke up this afternoon thinking it was Wednesday, and wasn't alerted to the fact that it was Thursday until I received a call from a friend. Helpful, good friend. I'm taking short shallow breaths that don't bring me any relief from the panic slowly building. Panic not because I'm leaving, well, maybe a little that I'm leaving, but panic that there is so much to do before liftoff. Just thinking about it makes me think of procrastinating. Put it off until the very last second. I work well under pressure, right? Pressure. Work to do. Sleep to be had. That bag won't pack itself. Ignore it. Focus on what you'd rather be doing. Read a book. Play on the internet. Listen to music. Eat something. Stare at the wall. I don't want to be prepared, I want to be frenzied, picked up by the maelstrom, thrown about and tossed onto the plane, to arrive safely at my destination: Italy.

Lost or found?

I recently came across a blog that I somewhat went looking for. I didn't know I was searching for it until I found it, and once I did, I received a lot more knowledge and information than I really wanted. Now I can not help thinking about that blog every once in a while. Sort of haunting if I have to be poetic. OK, I do. I'm sure everyone has had the "what if" thoughts. What if I had taken that job, done that differently, bought that car, moved to that place, had a different childhood, been less selfish, been more carefree. What if. What if. What if. Life is full of "what ifs." I have made choices that I am totally comfortable with and others that give me hours of thoughtful agony. But then if I could go back, would I really have done anything differently? I would probably react the same way, have the same thoughts, feel the same feelings. Just because you want to go back and change something, doesn't mean that given that opportunity, you would behave any differently than you did the first time. 

Is there really only one defining moment? Or is it millions of moments that lead to the result? If I have piqued your curiosity sufficiently you are probably wondering what the blog had to do with me. I was searching for an old flame. One that was never really realized in any form except innocence and undying devotion written faithfully in letter form over two long years. He was a missionary that I fell in love with and cried over when he left my town. We corresponded for those two years while he was away and when he was free to go and pursue his own agenda he moved back to his home, which was far, far, away from mine. Phone tag, meetings arranged but never accomplished, and eventually infrequent conversations and letters led to both of us moving on with our lives, separately from each other. I got married. I got divorced. I finished college. I'm moving to a different country soon. 

I have always wondered what happened to that beautiful boy. Where he ended up. This blog showed me his whole world. Written faithfully by his wife, about her family. Photos of his life with her and his sons. Photos of how happy he must be... although it is from her perspective he looks very happy in the pictures. Camp-outs, family outings, family dinners, birthday cakes. The things that make life a little bit more beautiful. She looks happy. Tired, but happy. He looks older, more laugh lines and even a few wrinkles. I saw the young man that I fell in love with as well as the new person he has become. Would it be the same if we had been together? Would we have two boys with a daughter on the way? Would I be the same person she is, the housewife dutifully caring for the family while he works to support us? I don't think so. I have a high respect for women that stay home and raise and care for their children, it's a hard job. But I know that I am not the same person who I was back when I fell in love with this boy who came to my town and left just as suddenly. It still makes me wonder though. What if.

#1 of 1000's

Picadilly Circus. And it certainly was a circus. Beautiful but crazy. Everywhere in Europe the old is mixed with the new. Ancient and Modern. Antique and Contemporary. The facades of the buildings made me catch my breath in wonder. Not fair. Do they realize what surrounds them every day? History. Thus began my trip.

Once, twice, or however many times I can in a lifetime.

This is the perfect time to announce my upcoming trip to Europe! I leave May 8th and return May 30th. It is a trip with a group from my university and we'll be meeting up with another university somewhere in North Carolina. I'll get 6 credits which will be the last of the classes I need to graduate with my Bachelor Degree! How's that for freakishly awesome. Get school credit for jaunting through Europe.

I will be in London for a week and a half, then on to Paris. Paris, Je t'aime. After Paris we hit Lucerne, Switzerland for a couple of days. The last leg of our tour is through Italy. Florence, Pisa, Siena, and Rome. I will be posting pictures of course, and telling all about my adventures and foibles (I'm sure there will be something!)

There are no words to explain my excitement! My only regret is that I will not be visiting my dream castle on this trip. Neuschwanstein Castle, Germany. Oh well, next trip!

It's funny about divorce...

Isn't it weird how life is never like you think it's going to be? I used to be proud of the fact that my parents were still married when all of the kids around me had divorced parents. Today, I wonder how I will ever be comfortable with my two new step-families and the fact that my brothers and sisters are being tossed around from one parent in California to the other in Colorado. And I also face the reality that I am now divorced, my sister is getting a divorce, and I have no idea how the rest of my siblings are going to turn out.

I was married for 3 1/2 years but was with him for a total of 7 years. Do you think the fact that I believed in him, trusted him implicitly protected me from the possibility of him cheating? It made a mockery of my trust, and my faith in him and our relationship. How do I ever feel trust in another person again? We had no children, but had started trying for a child. Initially it only made me feel bitter and hurt when people would tell me "at least you don't have kids!" Now I am so grateful for that. Not that I wouldn't have loved that child in spite of everything and him, but it would have been extremely difficult. I have a lot of respect for single mothers and fathers who are in that position. Can there even be any harder trial to overcome in life? I don't have to see or talk to my ex, I can go and do anything that I want to. I don't have the responsibility of providing for another human being.

There is a wonderful opportunity in divorce coined the "window of change" by E. Mavis Hetherington and John Kelly in their book For Better or For Worse. I like to think of myself as a combination of two patterns that people usually follow following divorce. Enhanced and Competent Loner. What that means is that I have used my divorce to give me a push in the right direction. A direction that includes finishing my Bachelor Degree in Interior Design, something that I "gave up" for my relationship and marriage. As well as traveling. I am going to Europe this summer for a month! And Competent Loner refers to my being ok with not having someone else in my life. I can be a whole, complete and happy person without a man. I respect myself. I'm not swearing off men or marriage, I'm just not relying on someone else to validate me as a human being, and not waiting around for someone else to make my life fulfilling.

My family on the other hand is a model of what parents should not do when deciding to pursue a divorce. If adults and parents would stop justifying their actions that the kids are going to be better off when the parents are happier, it would help matters immensely. No child, no matter what is going on between the parents, wants or understands divorce. It is just as hard for adult children, perhaps harder, because they can grasp what is going to happen in their lives.

Don't talk to your children about the details of what each parent is doing to each other. Don't move 3 states away from your ex and split up the kids into two different households. Don't get caught up in your wants and needs at the expense of what is best for your children. Don't let the step-parent think they have any authority to punish and manage the children. That is purely the job of the biological parent. The new husband or wife should stay on the outskirts of issues between the kids and the parent. They are just there to support the real parent, not parent the kids. But step-parents also have a real responsibility to help and foster their new step-children. Build a foundation for them to trust and respect you. Don't belittle or talk down about their real parent, no matter the circumstances of the divorce and the previous issues between the divorced couple.

Consider the impact your divorce will have on your children throughout their lives. Be sure to communicate to them what is happening and why, in a way they can understand and be reassured that it is not because of them. I don't know why I feel compelled to write all of this, but maybe someone will come across it, and feel better about what is happening in their own lives. Almost 50% of marriages in America end in divorce. It is something that almost everyone is touched by in some way. Their families, their friends, themselves. Our society is increasingly focused on individualism and what someone else can do for me. We are selfish.

To couples and children and families everywhere who are dealing with the reality of divorce, I recommend a few books and journals. The Unexpected Legacy of Divorce, by Judith Wallerstein, a little depressing but very important information. For Better or For Worse by E. Mavis Hetherington and John Kelly, a little better as far as not being as depressing, and it gives great tools and advice for several scenarios dealing with divorce. Step-Wars, by Grace Gabe and Jean Lipman-Blumen, one of the few books addressing adult children in divorce and step-families. The CQ Researcher has some great articles in their magazine that can be referenced online, for free. Just do a search for divorce. Good luck and best wishes to everyone touched by divorce.

Don't puff yourself up before bowling...

So, tonight I'm feeling a little better and decide that I have to get off of the couch, and get out of the house. I shower up, and meet my sister and her husband at a little tea shop down the street for lunch but alas, it was packed, no tables available. I was completely disappointed because I love having tea and sandwiches and visiting. Elizabeth's Bakery and Tea Shop, very quaint and fun. Another fabulous tea house is in Boulder, CO called Dushanbe Tea House. They serve a traditional English afternoon tea, complete with scones, cucumber sandwiches, lemon curd, and they have the best selection of teas I've been able to find, anywhere. Anyway, I digress. Because Elizabeth's was full, we had to get our food to go and take it home to eat it. Soooo not the same. The food was good but would have been much better with a pot of tea. So I made something better... coffee.

Overall, a better day because it wasn't spent on the couch. I decided to go bowling with the family and was pretty excited. I normally bowl pretty well. I've bowled over 200 once. Normally, somewhere between 150 and 175. Not so tonight. And of course my sister told everyone we were with about my normal numbers. I believe I was still at 30 in the 6th frame. Ummm...the ball was too heavy, the holes too small, my fingernails were too long, the floor was too slippery. And in my defense, I am still sick. I ended up with one spare, and a 77 in the last frame. OUCH! And because we only bowled one game, no chance of redeeming myself.

My niece has taken to saying No. No, no. every time she looks at me. It's kind of funny but at the same time, if I'm honest with myself, it kind of hurts my feelings. And she's only 15 months old. How could she blatantly throw my affection back in my face and then go to another aunt in a heartbeat. I was there when she was sliding out for goodness sake! Well, when she grows up a little more I'm sure she'll realize that I am her favorite aunt.

I really have bowled over 200. But I did have a few drinks in me...

Sick as a dog.

So, I've been laying on my sisters couch for the past three days...sick with who knows what. How did I get this illness? The most likely suspect is my sister and her family. But I hate for her to be blamed because they are still getting over it themselves but it's been 3 weeks. Yuck. I've watched several episodes of Lost on my brother-in-laws laptop (which I think he is secretly annoyed about) and surfed the internet extensively. That's how I came across this lovely site. I googled Sienna, Italy and came across photos on a womans blog. Of course you have to scroll through the entire blog history to find the picture that google has referenced...but in so doing read some delightful tales and thoughts about the womans life as a wife to an officer in the military, living in Italy. I ended up reading her entire blog.

I then coughed a couple of times, wiped my nose and thought it might be fun to add my thoughts to the cyber-world. So here I am, writing this out whilst I could be studying for the exam that I missed on Thurs. Don't you just love procrastination?

I have already surfed through a few other blogs, one that was a little racy, but very sexy. The nice thing about stumbling onto a gay man's blog is that he always posts the most delicious pictures of scantily (if at all) clad men. They always have the best taste.

So, if I remember the website address and that I now have a place to blog...I will be back.