Yesterday was so much of a day that I still can't process everything that happened.
Things went really well for Leet. He'll be seeing his kids this Saturday for the first time in 15 months.
It was so weird to see his ex, to be in the same room as her, to hear her voice. She didn't sound anything like I thought she would, didn't even look like she does in her Myspace pictures. She's shorter than I thought she'd be, somehow...softer. If I was behind her in line in a grocery store, I think I'd probably think she was a sweet person.
I don't even know what to do with that information.
It was funny though, to watch her try and look put together, to try and seem professional, and for it to be so completely transparent. No lawyer rolls around a briefcase on wheels, or leaves their contacts home in favor of glasses. It was so rewarding to watch her get called out on not following procedures and for asking for things that are completely out of line.
It was really hard to sit there and to not be able to do anything. I wanted to be able to talk for Leet...he missed a few opportunities to catch her in a lie and to really make his case, and it was all I could do to not stand up and shout to him what he needed to say. It's such an intimidating environment, I know he was nervous as hell. He won, but it wasn't the victory we had hoped. She still walked away with a small piece.
We go back in a month. We'll be better prepared and there will be no question about who is right this time.
23 September 2008
21 September 2008
Fears.
Tomorrow is such an important day for Leet. And I'm so scared.
I want him to be able to see his kids again, but things have gone against him for so long. What if the court doesn't see all the hard work he's done? What if they are again blinded by her complete and utter bullshit?
Why does she feel the need to be so malicious to him? What is she gaining? What would she lose if she were suddenly able to reason like a normal person? Why does she tell such ugly lies?
What happens when she sees me? Can I be strong? I want to be strong, for him. I want to be able to joke with him and smile at him, so that she gets scared because we're so clearly not.
I just want those kids to have what they deserve. I don't care about the rest. I don't care about her being held accountable for her lies or for all the horrible things she's done...none of that matters if he doesn't get to see his kids.
Honestly, I feel like if things don't go well tomorrow, it negates all the good and everything I've been telling him. I keep saying that things happen for a reason and that all the bad stuff happened so that he was able to come to this better place of understanding, to be a better father and to get to be a part of his kids' lives in the right way. What does it mean if none of that comes to fruition?
I can't focus on that. I can only say Hail Marys until the moment that the commissioner issues his or her ruling. I can only send positive thoughts out into the universe. I can only hope. If I give up hoping, who is left?
I want him to be able to see his kids again, but things have gone against him for so long. What if the court doesn't see all the hard work he's done? What if they are again blinded by her complete and utter bullshit?
Why does she feel the need to be so malicious to him? What is she gaining? What would she lose if she were suddenly able to reason like a normal person? Why does she tell such ugly lies?
What happens when she sees me? Can I be strong? I want to be strong, for him. I want to be able to joke with him and smile at him, so that she gets scared because we're so clearly not.
I just want those kids to have what they deserve. I don't care about the rest. I don't care about her being held accountable for her lies or for all the horrible things she's done...none of that matters if he doesn't get to see his kids.
Honestly, I feel like if things don't go well tomorrow, it negates all the good and everything I've been telling him. I keep saying that things happen for a reason and that all the bad stuff happened so that he was able to come to this better place of understanding, to be a better father and to get to be a part of his kids' lives in the right way. What does it mean if none of that comes to fruition?
I can't focus on that. I can only say Hail Marys until the moment that the commissioner issues his or her ruling. I can only send positive thoughts out into the universe. I can only hope. If I give up hoping, who is left?
Upgrade.
It's almost two in the afternoon. Leet is still asleep, Badcat is somewhere where I can't see her (being bad no doubt), and so it is just me, in my brightly lit living room with just the hum of the laptop cooler to keep me company.
It's really nice.
I don't think I really appreciated how much of an impact a person's environment can have on their well-being until we moved 3 weeks ago. This place is, by far, the nicest place I have ever lived since fleeing the nest. And, especially when you compare it to the giant mold spore that we lived in before here, it's really something amazing.
The walls are all one color, sheetrock and texture, the windows are clean and new, the floors are covered with real carpet and linoleum, not remnants or paint. There is no crumbling plaster, with smears of weird paint or spackle, no mold on the decaying windowsills, no rust in the ancient tub-converted-to-shower...this is an honest to goodness real place for people to live.
I've become slightly anal about cleaning since we've moved in. Leet gets a major discount (something like cost + 10%) on all SC Johnson products through work, so I have every Scrubbing Bubble gadget you've ever lusted over on TV, some awesome Pledge products, plus a staggering amount of Method wipes, Greenworks, and other ecofriendly cleaners. My Swiffer has seen more action in the last 3 weeks than it saw the entire time we lived in the mold-hole.
So, I think I'm going to sit on my real couches in my real living room, or maybe have lunch at the table in my real dining room, while I do some laundry in my real washer and dryer (the kind that doesn't take quarters...for real) and run the dishwasher (and that doesn't mean handing Leet the scrubbrush). It's nice living like real people.
It's really nice.
I don't think I really appreciated how much of an impact a person's environment can have on their well-being until we moved 3 weeks ago. This place is, by far, the nicest place I have ever lived since fleeing the nest. And, especially when you compare it to the giant mold spore that we lived in before here, it's really something amazing.
The walls are all one color, sheetrock and texture, the windows are clean and new, the floors are covered with real carpet and linoleum, not remnants or paint. There is no crumbling plaster, with smears of weird paint or spackle, no mold on the decaying windowsills, no rust in the ancient tub-converted-to-shower...this is an honest to goodness real place for people to live.
I've become slightly anal about cleaning since we've moved in. Leet gets a major discount (something like cost + 10%) on all SC Johnson products through work, so I have every Scrubbing Bubble gadget you've ever lusted over on TV, some awesome Pledge products, plus a staggering amount of Method wipes, Greenworks, and other ecofriendly cleaners. My Swiffer has seen more action in the last 3 weeks than it saw the entire time we lived in the mold-hole.
So, I think I'm going to sit on my real couches in my real living room, or maybe have lunch at the table in my real dining room, while I do some laundry in my real washer and dryer (the kind that doesn't take quarters...for real) and run the dishwasher (and that doesn't mean handing Leet the scrubbrush). It's nice living like real people.
The title.
Two Row Boats was the title of the first poem I ever wrote for Leet (boy does it feel weird to use aliases). Before that poem, I hadn't been able to write for months, at the very least. I was weird and maybe depressed (or maybe coming out of a depression) and was transitioning through a hard phase of life, and it just felt like every word I tried to put on paper sounded like a bunch of pretentious whining.
And then I met Leet. To be completely honest and fair, when we met in person at my aunt and uncle's (it was the second time), we didn't really talk (I don't know that we spoke at all the first time, except for the moment when he tried to hand me the XBox controller, which I declined). I was drawn in by him somehow. And so I did the lamest thing I think a person could ever do, and went and found him on Myspace. I sent him this lameass message about being a good dad and having a lot of support, and figured he would see right through it and think I was a huge loser and would ignore the message and then make fun of me to my cousin and everyone would have a good laugh (except for me, who would be oblivious, but dying for a return message). Instead, I get this response that says he really wouldn't mind getting to know me...and I just couldn't believe it.
Somehow, we started messaging back and forth. I think it was about a week on Myspace, and then quickly changed to IM. It was the most exhilirating lame messaging I had ever experienced. We were both unemployed, so we would stay up until 5 or 6 AM just talking about nothing, but having a completely good time. And then one night, while waiting for that telling little beep of a response to something benign I had said, I got inspired. And thus, Two Row Boats was born.
And then I met Leet. To be completely honest and fair, when we met in person at my aunt and uncle's (it was the second time), we didn't really talk (I don't know that we spoke at all the first time, except for the moment when he tried to hand me the XBox controller, which I declined). I was drawn in by him somehow. And so I did the lamest thing I think a person could ever do, and went and found him on Myspace. I sent him this lameass message about being a good dad and having a lot of support, and figured he would see right through it and think I was a huge loser and would ignore the message and then make fun of me to my cousin and everyone would have a good laugh (except for me, who would be oblivious, but dying for a return message). Instead, I get this response that says he really wouldn't mind getting to know me...and I just couldn't believe it.
Somehow, we started messaging back and forth. I think it was about a week on Myspace, and then quickly changed to IM. It was the most exhilirating lame messaging I had ever experienced. We were both unemployed, so we would stay up until 5 or 6 AM just talking about nothing, but having a completely good time. And then one night, while waiting for that telling little beep of a response to something benign I had said, I got inspired. And thus, Two Row Boats was born.
two row boats.
this comfortable sea
between exchanges
carries just the right amount
of unspoken whispers
from my boat to yours.i'd float an innocent kiss
inside a bottle,
did I think it would help.the milky blue-green
swells like bathwater
in the pregnant pause,
and my ears prick
at the sound of the waves at the hull.bow to stern
languidly gliding
there is a purpose under the stars,
and a yearning in the oars.
New beginnings.
Wow...is it ever intimidating to start a new blog from the ground up: new name, new look, new host. I want to say it's refreshing, but I do miss the familiarity of the old digs.
[Or, in related news: Hi...this is my blog.]
When I decided to scrap my old blog in favor of a new one, I wasn't sure where to go, what to do, or what to call myself even. I thought maybe it would just be more of the same, except with a different, more discrete name. Instead, I'm not sharing the new location with anyone I know in real life (except for my love, 1337h4x0r--Leet, for short--because, you know, love and all...he picked the name, don't ask) so that, I dunno, I can really write about things, and not skirt around them. I think this will work, provided I don't become famous, excepting on a very small and altogether enjoyable scale, of course.
I'm hoping that I can take this new blog in the direction I've wanted to go for so very long: talking about love and sex on a candid level, bemoaning life in the academic world, crafting snippety little portraits of my unbelievably surreal friends and family, and all the snark I can stomach, I hope Two Row Boats (TRB) becomes what my other blog was not.
And that's the last you'll hear about blogging before TRB.
Onto the good stuff...
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